calling to him and Tom to come to supper. The skies were darkening fast, and it would be night in a matter of minutes.
Tom stood there, dazed by the quick turn of events. He shouldn't have let Uncle Wilmer. But how could he have stopped him? The halter was on. Uncle Wilmer's way had been swift, firm and hard, yet he hadn't hurt the colt. The job had been done quickly, easily. But he had done it by force.
"I've seen too many people try to knock obedience into a colt by giving him the rough treatment," Jimmy Creech had written. "They say it's faster, and they're right. But what they forget is that it usually breaks the colt's spirit, too. And when that's done you've killed what may have been a fine horse."
Tom thought of Jimmy's words as he moved to where he could see the colt. He found him standing close beside the mare, yet bending down, trying to reach the grass to graze. The colt was more intent upon his effort to stretch his short neck as far as possible than he was upon the halter about his head.
Again Aunt Emma called Tom to come to supper, and her voice was more demanding now.
Tom led the Queen into the box stall and the colt followed close behind. After feeding the mare, Tom stopped beside the colt, who was beginning to show an interest in the Queen's oats. It was dark inside the stall and Tom could only see the outline of the small body. The boy attempted to place a hand on the colt, but he moved away quickly from him.
"I couldn't stop Uncle Wilmer this time," Tom said. "But it won't happen again. I promise you that."
Tom knew that his uncle had only done what he thought best. Tom realized too that he himself had made a mistake in attempting to hold the colt. He should have had more patience. He should have spent days, if necessary, trying to coax the colt into letting him put the halter on his head. And if that had failed, he could have asked Uncle Wilmer simply to hold the colt still while he put it on. But Uncle Wilmer had thrown the colt hard to the ground. It shouldn't have been done that way. It wouldn't happen again. Some way, Tom decided, he'd have to make it plain to Uncle Wilmer that he wanted no further help from him.
Tom managed to get his hand on the colt's body, but as he reached for his head the colt swerved away from him, moving behind the Queen. Concerned and worried, Tom left the stall.
Setback!
6
Early the following morning, Tom came downstairs to the kitchen to find his aunt and uncle already there.
"Good morning, Tom," his aunt greeted him cheerfully. But her eyes were searching as they met his, and he knew that his uncle had told her what had happened the day before.
Uncle Wilmer stood by the door, ready to go out. He didn't look at the boy as he repeated his wife's greeting. He shifted uneasily upon his feet, obviously waiting for Tom to join him.
"You got a while till breakfast," Aunt Emma was saying. "I'm making pancakes this morning."
"You comin'?" his uncle asked.
Nodding, Tom followed him out the door, stopping only to douse his head in the water trough outside. He was wiping his face on the roller towel when Uncle Wilmer said, "It's a mighty nice morning, all right."
The sky above held all of summer's brilliant blue and the fields, heavy with valley dew, sparkled in the sun's first rays. But Tom turned quickly from all this to the red-roofed barn and the stall door over which the Queen peered. She neighed loudly at sight of them.
They walked across the lawn, Tom following his uncle. He wondered if it was necessary to tell him how he felt about the throwing of the colt. Certainly his uncle must know. It was apparent by his unusual silence of the evening before and even now. Uncle Wilmer's use of force had been instinctive, for he'd always done it that way.
They were nearing the gate when Tom touched his uncle's arm. "It
is
a grand day," he said, smiling, when his uncle turned to look at him.
"Heh?" Uncle Wilmer's eyes were puzzled and a little troubled as they met
Tom stood there, dazed by the quick turn of events. He shouldn't have let Uncle Wilmer. But how could he have stopped him? The halter was on. Uncle Wilmer's way had been swift, firm and hard, yet he hadn't hurt the colt. The job had been done quickly, easily. But he had done it by force.
"I've seen too many people try to knock obedience into a colt by giving him the rough treatment," Jimmy Creech had written. "They say it's faster, and they're right. But what they forget is that it usually breaks the colt's spirit, too. And when that's done you've killed what may have been a fine horse."
Tom thought of Jimmy's words as he moved to where he could see the colt. He found him standing close beside the mare, yet bending down, trying to reach the grass to graze. The colt was more intent upon his effort to stretch his short neck as far as possible than he was upon the halter about his head.
Again Aunt Emma called Tom to come to supper, and her voice was more demanding now.
Tom led the Queen into the box stall and the colt followed close behind. After feeding the mare, Tom stopped beside the colt, who was beginning to show an interest in the Queen's oats. It was dark inside the stall and Tom could only see the outline of the small body. The boy attempted to place a hand on the colt, but he moved away quickly from him.
"I couldn't stop Uncle Wilmer this time," Tom said. "But it won't happen again. I promise you that."
Tom knew that his uncle had only done what he thought best. Tom realized too that he himself had made a mistake in attempting to hold the colt. He should have had more patience. He should have spent days, if necessary, trying to coax the colt into letting him put the halter on his head. And if that had failed, he could have asked Uncle Wilmer simply to hold the colt still while he put it on. But Uncle Wilmer had thrown the colt hard to the ground. It shouldn't have been done that way. It wouldn't happen again. Some way, Tom decided, he'd have to make it plain to Uncle Wilmer that he wanted no further help from him.
Tom managed to get his hand on the colt's body, but as he reached for his head the colt swerved away from him, moving behind the Queen. Concerned and worried, Tom left the stall.
Setback!
6
Early the following morning, Tom came downstairs to the kitchen to find his aunt and uncle already there.
"Good morning, Tom," his aunt greeted him cheerfully. But her eyes were searching as they met his, and he knew that his uncle had told her what had happened the day before.
Uncle Wilmer stood by the door, ready to go out. He didn't look at the boy as he repeated his wife's greeting. He shifted uneasily upon his feet, obviously waiting for Tom to join him.
"You got a while till breakfast," Aunt Emma was saying. "I'm making pancakes this morning."
"You comin'?" his uncle asked.
Nodding, Tom followed him out the door, stopping only to douse his head in the water trough outside. He was wiping his face on the roller towel when Uncle Wilmer said, "It's a mighty nice morning, all right."
The sky above held all of summer's brilliant blue and the fields, heavy with valley dew, sparkled in the sun's first rays. But Tom turned quickly from all this to the red-roofed barn and the stall door over which the Queen peered. She neighed loudly at sight of them.
They walked across the lawn, Tom following his uncle. He wondered if it was necessary to tell him how he felt about the throwing of the colt. Certainly his uncle must know. It was apparent by his unusual silence of the evening before and even now. Uncle Wilmer's use of force had been instinctive, for he'd always done it that way.
They were nearing the gate when Tom touched his uncle's arm. "It
is
a grand day," he said, smiling, when his uncle turned to look at him.
"Heh?" Uncle Wilmer's eyes were puzzled and a little troubled as they met
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