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Tom's.
    "A nice day!" Tom shouted.
    Uncle Wilmer nodded his head vigorously. "I already said that," he replied. But there was a lightness to his eyes that hadn't been there before, and when they went through the gate he put his hand on Tom's shoulder.
    Uncle Wilmer was heading for the chicken house, but before leaving Tom he said, without turning to him, "I oughtn't to have done what I did yesterday. It's your colt and you do with him the way you think you ought…" He was still talking as he moved away from Tom.
    For a moment, Tom watched his uncle while the man walked toward the chicken house, his arm slung behind his back, his body bent forward. Tom realized the effort it had taken for his uncle to apologize. He knew too that his uncle meant it, and that there wouldn't be a repeat performance of what had happened yesterday. It had turned our the way he had hoped it would.
    Eagerly, Tom ran to the Queen. She neighed repeatedly as he stroked her head; she struck her forehoof against the door in her anxiety to be let out. The colt was hidden behind the mare, and Tom couldn't see him.
    He opened the door and stepped back, allowing the Queen to come outside. The colt followed closely behind her and when Tom saw him, the boy's face suddenly became pale, then distorted in pain and anguish. The colt's nose was swollen far out of proportion to the small head. The nose band, much too tight, had cut into tender skin!
    Sick at heart and furious with himself, Tom ran toward the colt who, frightened, avoided him. Unthinking, Tom made desperate efforts to grab the colt, but all to no avail. He knew he had to get the halter off immediately, so he kept running, trying to chase the colt into a corner of the paddock where he could get his hands upon him. But always there would be the quick twisting and turning of the slim legs and the colt would be away.
    Finally Tom's eyes lit on the open door of the box stall and then on the Queen. He ran inside the barn and to the grain box. Taking a container of oats, he poured it into the Queen's manger, calling loudly and banging the empty container against the side of the box.
    The Queen came through the door and moved quickly to her feed. Behind her followed the colt, staying close to his mother.
    Tom went into the stall again and closed the door. Without hesitation he approached the colt, who now stood between the mare and the side of the stall. Tom moved quickly, pushing the mare to one side to get to the colt. He had to get the tight halter off now. For the colt's own good, he couldn't afford to be patient.
    The colt moved to the front of the mare, then to the other side of her, and Tom followed. He went around the Queen again before he was able to get the colt in a corner of the stall. He had his hands at last on the small, writhing body. The colt's eyes were white with fury and fright, and his forelegs struck out as Tom pinned him against the side of the stall.
    Tom reached for the halter and the colt fought with such frenzy that only the boy's desperation gave him the strength to hold the heaving body. He had hold of the buckle; he pulled; the strap loosened. Tom tore the halter off the colt's head and flung it down on the straw; then, sickened by the sight before him, he stepped back and away from the colt.
    He watched him go to the mare and, trembling, snuggle close to her. He saw the blood come to the open welt, slowly at first, then even faster, until rivulets of blood ran down the small nose.
    Weakly, Tom leaned against the wall. Why had he let this happen? And then his face flamed in anger. He didn't deserve Jimmy's confidence! He knew nothing about caring for horses! He was stupid! A fool! Anyone should have seen that the nose band was too tight. Anyone!
    "Burn the halter. Burn it."
    It was his uncle's voice, and Tom turned to find him standing by the door. How long he'd been there he didn't know… or care.
    Tom didn't meet his uncle's eyes. He just stood there unseeing. But a few