"She is going to be an uncommonly easy subject, I predict," he announced.
"But who'd have patience for such slow getting on?" Chet scornfully asked.
"I should imagine a little time apparently wasted in the beginning less loss than a fine horse ruined in the end," the old man quietly answered.
When he let the young mare go that time she seemed slow to leave him, though he had brushed her even to her heels.
The next time he handled her with greater freedom, brushing and talking and finally showing her a little sack of straw. She eyed it awhile, smelled it and then seemed not to care for it. The man now began to rub her with this, gradually increasing the noise it made. Of course, she was a little shy of this, and inclined to go away. A few gentle touches of the brush reassured her. Then he put a halter on her. She had often worn one before. After this he applied the straw again, stopping every little while to brush and smoothe her. In a little time she paid no attention either to the noise or the touch of the sack.
The next day he gave her four lessons of similar character. Later he rattled tin cans and the like about her from head to heels, and had small boys blow tin horns in all directions.
Topsy told me afterwards that so long as she could hear that man's voice or feel his touch, she was not afraid of anything.
Afterward he gradually introduced the bridle and harness.
Like all horses, she objected to the bit, and I fancy people would make more fuss than we do, if they had to wear it. It was the first night that Topsy was at the livery barn after her "breaking," and she was saying she minded the bit worst of all.