"It'll be worth seeing," he said; and from the Quiet Stockman
that was looked upon as a very pressing invitation.
From the day of the draughting he had ceased altogether to avoid me, and
in the days that followed had gradually realised that a horse could be
more to a woman than a means of locomotion; and now no longer drew the
line at conversations.
When we went up to the yards in the morning, the brown colt was in a
small yard by itself, and Jack was waiting at the gate, ready for its
"catching."
With a laugh at the wild rush with which the colt avoided him, he shut
himself into the yard with it, and moved quietly about, sometimes towards
it and sometimes from it; at times standing still and looking it over,
and at other times throwing a rope or sack carelessly down, waiting until
his presence had become familiar, and the colt had learned that there was
nothing to fear from it.
There was a curious calmness in the man's movements, a fearless repose
that utterly ignored the wild rushes, and as a natural result they soon
ceased; and within just a minute or two the beautiful creature was
standing still, watching in quivering wonder.
Gradually a double rope began to play in the air with ever-increasing
circles, awakening anew the colt's fears; and as these in turn subsided,
without any apparent effort a long running noose flickered out from the
circling rope, and, falling over the strong young head, lay still on the
arching neck.
The leap forward was terrific; but the rope brought the colt up with a
jerk; and in the instant's pause that followed the Quiet Stockman braced
himself for the mad rearing plunges that were coming. There was literally
only an instant's pause, and then with a clatter of hoofs the plungings
began, and were met with muscles of iron, and jaw set like a vice, as the
man, with heels dug into the ground dragged back on the rope, yielding as
much as his judgment allowed - enough to ease the shocks, but not an inch
by compulsion.
Twice the rearing, terrified creature circled round him and then the rope
began to shorten to a more workable length. There was no haste, no
flurry. Surely and steadily the rope shortened (but the horse went to the
man not the man to the horse; that was to come later). With the
shortening of the rope the compelling power of the man's will forced
itself into the brute mind, and, bending to that will, the wild leaps and
plungings took on a vague suggestion of obedience - a going WITH the rope,
not against it; that was all. An erratic going, perhaps, but enough to
tell that the horse had acknowledged a master. That was all Jack asked
for at first, and, satisfied, he relaxed his muscles, and as the rope
slackened the horse turned and faced him; and the marvel was how quickly
it was all over.
But something was to follow, that once seen could never be forgotten the
advance of the man to the horse.
With barely perceptible movement, the man's hands stole along the rope at
a snail's pace. Never hurrying never stopping, they did on, the colt
watching them as though mesmerised. When within reach of the dilated
nostrils, they paused and waited, and slowly the sensitive head came
forward snuffing, more in bewilderment than fear at this new wonder, and
as the dark twitching muzzle brushed the hands, the head drew sharply
back, only to return again in a moment with greater confidence.
Three or four times the quivering nostrils came back to the hands before
they stirred, then one lifted slowly and lay on the muzzle, warm and
strong and comforting, while the other, creeping up the rope, slipped on
to the glossy neck, and the catching was over.
For a little while there was some gentle patting and fondling, to a
murmuring accompaniment of words the horse standing still with twitching
ears the while. Then came the test of the victory - the test of the
man's power and the creature's intelligence. The horse was to go to the
man, at the man's bidding alone, without force or coercion. "The better
they are the sooner you learn 'em that," was one of Jack's pet theories,
while his proudest boast - his only boast - perhaps was that he'd "never
been beaten on that yet."
"They have to come sooner or later if you stick at 'em," he had said,
when I marvelled at first to see the great creatures come obediently to
the click of his tongue or fingers. So far in all his wide experience
the latest had been the third day. That, however, was rare; more
frequently it was a matter of hours, sometimes barely an hour, while now
and then - incredulous as it may seem to the layman - only minutes.
Ten minutes before Jack put the brown colt to the test it had been a
wild, terrified, plunging creature, and yet, as he stepped back to try
its intelligence and submission, his face was confident and expectant.
Moving slowly backwards, he held out one hand the hand that had proved
all kindness and comfort and, snapping a finger and thumb, clicked his
tongue in a murmur of invitation.
The brown ears shot forward to attention at the sound, and as the head
reached out to investigate, the snapping fingers repeated the invitation,
and without hesitation the magnificent creature went forward obediently
until the hand was once more resting on the dark muzzle.
The trusting beauty of the surrender seemed to break some spell that had
held us silent since the beginning of the catching.
