The Black Stallion by Walter Farley Read Free Book Online Page B

another reason, too, for having kept the Queen and her colt in the paddock. Here he could get to the colt more easily than he'd be able to do in the acres of pastureland. Winning the colt's confidence and handling him often was his most important job now. And it was a job he loved doing.
    Tom would enter the paddock, slowly approaching the colt. And the colt would watch him with curious and still uncertain eyes. For the colt now knew who his mother was, and he kept close to her, using her big body as his protection against the world.
    Always Tom would stop a few feet away from the mare. He would then stoop down, and sometimes even sit on the ground, for he had learned that the smaller he made himself the more confidence it gave the colt.
    The Queen would come to him, looking for the carrots in his pockets, and the colt would follow. While feeding the mare, Tom would remain very still, never making a move to touch the colt until the small head was thrust down to him and the soft muzzle searched curiously about his clothes. Tom would let him nibble his fingers and felt only the slightest edges of the colt's teeth, which were finding their way through tender gums. Very often then, the colt would encircle him, pulling at his clothes, while Tom ran his hand gently over the furry body and down the long slim legs to tiny hoofs.
    Uncle Wilmer watched Tom's handling of the colt with great curiosity and apparent concern. "Y'oughtn't to make so much of him," he would say. "You'll get more out of him if you show him who's boss right away, while you can still handle him. No sense in makin' up to him like you do. Git in there and hold him, if you want to brush him. You let him do what he wants and he'll kick the teeth out
of
you before long. He's gettin' stronger every day, an' if you don't act now, it ain't goin' to be so easy later on."
    Tom had listened, knowing his uncle meant well, but he wanted the colt to come to him of his own accord. He couldn't have done it any other way. But he knew, too, there was much to what his uncle was telling him. He knew he had to be more careful now, for the colt was throwing his hind legs around more often and with more force. The hoofs, while still small, could do some injury if well directed.
    So as Tom sat on the ground with the colt encircling him, he was more cautious, more alert than he had been the first few days, and he was on guard against the slightest movement of the hindquarters toward him.
    Jimmy Creech had said to handle the colt as much as possible, but he hadn't told him how to go about it. Until he heard from Jimmy, he would go ahead as he was doing, regardless of his uncle's advice, even though Tom knew it was being given in his own best interest.
    Jimmy Creech's
next
letter came with the late afternoon mail during the middle of the colt's second week. Eagerly Tom took it from the mailbox in the upper road. But before opening the letter, he turned to look at the barn set far below him. Across the waving fields of tall grass he could see a corner of the paddock, and there, sprawled in the sun, lay the colt.
    He opened the envelope and began reading Jimmy's large handwriting.
    Clearfield Fair July 10 Dear Tom,
    I couldn't have asked for anything more than a colt, and I'm so glad everything worked out okay. I sure understand how you must have felt, and George says he does, too.
    I only got your letter today because George and I are now at the Clearfield Fair, and your letter was forwarded back home before reaching us here.
    Now I'm going to tell you what to do until we all get back to Coronet. It's not much you have to do, Tom, but it's very important. I can't tell you how important it is.
    First thing you have to do is to win the confidence of the colt. Make sure he learns he has nothing to fear from you. Handle him all you can. Get him used to having your hands running all over him and picking up his feet. The more used to it he gets the easier it's going to be later for all of us.
    I