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.
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