Read Online Traveller by Richard Adams - Free Book Online Page B

he
warn’t
Jim, so I warn’t the same horse that Jim played with in the meadow and rode into the drinking tent. ‘Guess it’s hard to explain—’specially to a cat—but when a horse changes hands, his whole world changes. His feelings can change, his habits can change. But that takes time. ‘Course Marse Robert, he knowed that, and in the middle of all the digging work and pushing the soldiers, he always had patience and time to help me change to his ways. He never used a whip or a spur on me and he never lost his temper or raised his voice. Jest the way he said “No” was ‘nuff to let me understand he wanted something different from whatever I was doing. F’rinstance, he pretty near always let me stop to drink if’n I wanted. But one day—I s’pose we must a been in a hurry or something—we come to a creek, jest a piece off to one side, and I was going to turn in there, but he jest pulled the reins a little and said, “No, not now,” and I jest natcherly found myself going on. And then he patted my neck and said, “Sorry—won’t be long.” Marse Robert had a heart that felt respect for every living creature, and he knowed that in coming to him I’d come to a strange world. He paid as much attention to me, and seeing I felt easy in his world, as what he did to the soldiers and their digging. I figure now he knowed he was going to need me even more later on.
    He had plenty of time for it, too, on these long, lonely rides. Sometimes Marse Taylor or Marse Long would come with us, but often we’d be by ourselves, and that was when I could feel him putting all he had into getting to know me. He’d watch for things I did and get to know what they meant. And with all his attention on me, I could put all my attention on him. It’s jest a matter of habits, Tom, you see. I larned his habits and he larned mine.
    It sounds crazy, I know, seeing as he’s always had to do with so many people, but Marse Robert’s really a kind of a lonely man. There’s something—well, grave and solitary deep down in him. I don’t know who’d know that after all this time if’n it’s not me. Sort of wishing to be simple and plain. I’ve knowed one or two horses like that. Marse Robert’s always been able to make men trust him and be ready to fight for him or do anything he says—I’ve seed it over and over—and the men, they love him; but he’s not really close friends with none of ‘em, not like me and Ruffian used to be friends. Horses make special friends with other horses and stick to ‘em, and if a horse’s friend’s taken away, he mopes and feels bad. Marse Robert’s never had a friend like that— not a human friend. It’s jest the plain truth that
I’m
his best friend. Now he’s commanding the whole country, when he has to go away anywheres I jest know he’s missing me all the time, ‘cause I’m missing him. The whole time he’s away he misses me. Marse Robert and me are more at home with each other’n with anyone else—horse or man.
    It warn’t the same for Brown-Roan. Brown-Roan was a decent little horse and always done his best. But he was nervous in his ways and things bothered him. Marse Robert was always good to him, same’s he is to everyone—and me, I warn’t jealous of that. I knowed I didn’t have to be.
    â€œOh, the heat!” Brown-Roan used to groan whenever he was getting up, or Marse Robert was mounting him. “And these long rides! He asks sech a lot of a horse!” I always acted sympathetic, but the truth was he warn’t really the horse for the job. Richmond warn’t there that time— jest me and Brown-Roan.
    The soldiers didn’t like the digging. They used to grumble and cuss and say they didn’t figure it was work for white men. Marse Robert and me had to keep after