Part 6

You have now been out a half-dozen times with your new purchase, Tom, and you have managed to get along much to your own satisfaction. You have neither slipped off, nor has Penelope misbehaved. But you are intelligent enough to see that there is something beyond this for you and her to learn. I do not know how ambitious you are. If you want to make Nelly's forehand and croup so supple that you can train her into the finest gaits and action, you must go to work on the stable floor with an hour a day at least of patient teaching, for a number of weeks. For this purpose you must have a manual of instruction, such as I have shown you, and quite a little stock of leisure and particularly of good temper.

The ordinary English trainer thinks that a good mouth may be made in two weeks, by strapping a colt's reins to his surcingle for an hour or two daily, and by longeing with a cavesson. But excellent as cavesson work may be, this means alone will by no means produce the quality of mouth which the Baucher method will make, or which you should aim to give to Nelly.

Still I know that you have but limited time, Tom, and that you want your daily ride to educate both yourself and your mare. This can be accomplished after a fashion; but it is only what the primary school is to the university,--good, as far as it goes. The trouble with beginning to supple a horse's neck when in motion is that you ask him to start doing two things at once, that is, move forward at command and obey your reins, and he will be apt to be somewhat confused. He will not as readily understand what you want him to do, as if standing quiet and undisturbed.

With plenty of courage, Tom, Penelope seems to have a very gentle disposition. Almost all of our American horses have. They are not as apt to be spoiled in the breaking-in as they are abroad. And I fancy she is intelligent. You should have no difficulty in training her, and in teaching her a habit of obedience which she will never forget.

It is all but an axiom that an unspoiled horse will surely do what he knows you want him to do, unless he is afraid to do it, or unless, as is generally the case, you yourself are at fault. The difficulty lies in making him understand you. Remember this, and keep your patience always. If a horse is roguish, as he often will be, it is only a moment's play, and he will at once get over it, unless you make it worse by unnecessary fault-finding. I generally laugh at a horse instead of scolding him. He understands the tone if not the words, and it turns aside the occasion for a fight or for punishment.

Never invite a fight with a horse. Avoid it whenever you can accomplish your end by other means. Never decline it when it must come. But either win the fight or reckon on having a spoiled horse on your hands, who will never thoroughly obey you.

And remember that a horse who obeys from fear is never as tractable, safe, or pleasant as one who has been taught by gentle means, and with whom the habit of obeying goes hand in hand with love for his master and pleasure in serving him. I do not refer to those creatures which have already been made equine brutes by the stupidity or cruelty of human brutes. One of these may occasionally need more peremptory treatment, but under proper tuition even such an one needs it rarely.

XXXI.

Let us have a trot, and see how Penelope moves, and how you sit. You, Tom, will take your pace from me. There is nothing more unhorsemanlike and annoying than for a rider to keep half a horse's length in front of his companion. Your stirrup should be even with mine. A gentleman can be a foot or two in front of a lady, for safety and convenience, but men should ride as they would walk, all but arm in arm. Now you can see the effects of education. Penelope insists on trotting a twelve-mile gait, and no wonder, for she has such fine, open action, that a sharp gait is less effort to her than a slow one. On the contrary, I, who, as the senior, have the right to give the pace, am satisfied with two-thirds that speed; and Patroclus, who, as you well know, can easily out-trot, or, I fancy, out-run your mare, and would dearly like to try it, yields himself to my mood without an ounce of pull or friction. Look at his reins. They are quite loose. Now look at yours. Nelly is pulling and fretting for all she is worth, while you are working your passage. Two miles like that will take three out of her and five out of you. She will fume herself into a lather soon, while Pat will not have turned a hair. She certainly is a candidate for training. You appear to need all the strength of your arms to pull her down to a walk, whereas a simple turn of the wrist, or a low-spoken word, should suffice.

By the way, always indulge in the habit of talking to your horse. You have no idea of how much he will understand. And if he is in the habit of listening for your words, and of paying heed to what you say, he will be vastly more obedient as well as companionable. Patroclus and I often settle very knotty questions on the road. We think we helped elect Cleveland. And I must confess that occasionally a passer-by fancies that I am talking to myself, whereas, if he but knew the meaning of Patroclus' lively ears, he would see what a capital comrade I have, and one, moreover, who, like one's favorite book, is never impertinent enough to answer back, or flout you with excessive wisdom. It is certainly a very pleasant study to see how many words or phrases a horse can learn the meaning of, and act intelligently when he hears them.

XXXII.

What, then, shall you do first in the way of education? Well, let us see. As Nelly has been broken to harness, she can probably only walk and trot. You, yourself, seem to stick fairly well to the saddle. But how about your own position? Your leathers are a trifle long. They should be of just such length that, when you are in the middle of the saddle, on your seat, not your crotch, with the ball of your foot in the stirrups, your feet are almost parallel with the ground, the heel a trifle lower than the toes. Your toes are below your heels, you see. You should be able to get your heels well down when you settle into your saddle. The old rule of having the stirrups just touch the ankle-bone when the foot is hanging is not a bad one. The arm measure is unreliable, and physical conformation, as well as different backed horses, often require, even in a sound man, odd lengths of leathers.

You should not attempt to ride with your feet "home" until you can keep your stirrup under the ball of your foot without losing it, whatever your horse may do; and when you do ride "home," you should occasionally change back to the ball of your foot, so as to keep in practice. Moreover, you can train a horse much more easily, riding with only the ball of the foot in the stirrup, for you can use your legs to better advantage. My disability obliges me to ride "home" at all times, and I have always found it much more difficult to teach a horse the right leg indications than the left. I have to employ my whip not infrequently, in lieu of my leg. Your stirrup should be larger and heavier, for safety. I don't like your fine, small stirrups; and your saddle should have spring bars, which you should always keep from rusting out of good working order. They have saved many a man's collar-bone.

Be in the habit of using your knees and thighs alone for grip, though the closer you clasp the saddle without getting your legs _around_ the horse, the better. In the leap, or with a plunging horse, you may use the upper part of the calf, or as much more as your spurs will allow you to use. But of all equestrian horrors the worst is the too common habit of constantly using the calves instead of the knees to clasp the saddle-flaps. To such an extent is this often carried by a tyro (and no man gets beyond this stage who does it), that you can see an angle of daylight between the points where his thigh and calf touch the saddle, showing that his knee, which ought to be his main and constant hold, does not touch the saddle at all. The stirrup-leathers, especially if heavy, as they should be, often hurt the knee, if you are new to the saddle, and perhaps are the main inducement to this execrable habit. But you must either get your knees hardened, or else give up the saddle. Keep a steady lookout for this. You will never ride if you don't use your knees. If you do use them properly, your feet will look after themselves. Ride with the flat of the thigh and the knee-bone at all times close to the saddle.

Sit erect, but avoid rigidity. It is good practice to sit close, that is, without rising, on a slow jog-trot. Let us try. Sit perfectly straight and take the bumping. On a jog-trot, it is an unpardonable sin to lean forward at all. You will find that shortly it does not bump you so much, and by and by it will not at all. But don't lean back either. That is the country bumpkin's prerogative. Nelly is evidently easy enough, only she has not been taught to curb her ambition. Nothing shakes a man into the saddle better than this same jog-trot. Nothing is more absurd than the attempt to rise when the horse is only jogging, or, as it were, the attempt to make your horse begin to trot by beginning to rise. It looks like an attempt to lift yourself up by your boot straps. Teach him some other indication to start a trot. It is useless to rise unless a horse is going at least a six-mile gait.

Some School-riders taboo the jog, but all the cavalry of the world use it; it is the homeward gait of the tired hunter, and it does teach a man a good, easy, safe seat. It is true that a horse who won't walk at speed, but who falls from a slow walk into a jog whenever you urge him, is a nuisance. Moreover, the uneducated jog is neither a fashionable nor a desirable gait. But a schooled jog, which the horse does under your direction and control, is quite another thing, and a jog greatly relieves a tired horse. It seems to be unjustly tabooed. Unless, then, you are ultra-fashionable, make a habit of jogging now and then. By this I mean jogging with your horse "collected," so that you have not an ounce of hold on his mouth, and he is still under your absolute control, your seat meanwhile being firm and unshaken. But never let the horse jog of his own motion. That may spoil his walk. Make him jog only when you want him to do so, and when walking, do not let him fall into a jog unbidden. The jog I mean should be almost a parade gait; too slow to rise to, but still perfect in action, and so poised that from it your horse can bound into any faster gait at word.

Your hands are too high. They want to be but a couple of inches above the pommel, better lower than higher. A man whose reins wear out the pigskin on his pommel is all right. A horse who carries his head high needs lower hands. Some low-headed horses require the hands to be held a bit higher to stimulate the forehand.

It is difficult to say thus much without saying a great deal more; for this is but a hint of what is essential to correct such a physical defect as a low-carried head. But what I tell you will whet your appetite for a thorough knowledge, and this you will find in the books of Baucher's followers. The use of snaffle and curb, each for its best purpose, is very delicate.

Let me again repeat, of all things never hang on your horse's mouth. You may have to do so on Penelope's, or rather Penelope may hang on your hands, till you get her suppled, but you must try to do that soon. You don't want to be a "three legged rider." If you cannot learn to ride at any gait and speed smoothly and well, with your reins so loose that you might as well not have them in your hands, you will never do anything but "ride the bridle."

This applies to your seat, not to Penelope. It is not wise habitually to ride with reins too loose; you should always feel your horse's mouth. But you can feel it without a tight rein. Good driving horses often pull. A good riding horse should never do so.

Nelly seems to be sure-footed. If she is apt to stumble, sell her. Your neck is worth more than your pocket. By School-training and its consequent habit of keeping the hind legs well under him, a stumbler will learn instinctively to bring up the succeeding hind foot to the support of the yielding fore foot, so as to save himself a fall; but you don't want an imperfect horse, Tom. If Nelly can trot without stumbling, it is excellent practice for you to tie the reins in a knot on her neck, and to ride along the road without touching them. When you feel as secure this way as any other, your seat is strong. You do not want to do this _en evidence_. But get off on the country roads and practice it. This is one advantage of a careful riding-master and a good school; a pupil is taught the seat apart from and before the uses of the reins.

XXXIII.

As I think you have already mastered all that I have told you, you may begin to teach Penelope a bit. But remember that, as you are both intelligent, she will be teaching you at the same time. I notice that you have to use two hands to guide your mare, and I presume you want to learn some better way, for however necessary two hands may occasionally be, a horse must at times be managed by one. There are three methods of guiding a horse under saddle. The simplest, and the one requiring the least education, is the same which you are using, and which is the common way of driving, by holding the rein or reins of each side in one hand, and by pulling rein on the side you wish Nelly to turn to. It is possible to guide this way with one hand by a suitable turn of the wrist, but unless the horse is well collected, as few of our horses nowadays are, it is a poor reliance in any unusual case. The next method is guiding by the neck, by which the horse is made to turn to the right if you draw the rein across or lay it upon the left side of his neck, and _vice versa_. The third method combines the two others, and the horse obeys either indication. It requires the highest art in man and beast, and is superb in results when learned. The animal may be guided by the bit with the reins held in one hand, applying the pressure by the turn of the wrist, or may be turned by the neck while the bit is used to lighten one or other side. But this requires a hand and mouth of equal delicacy, and a horse always in a state of equilibrium.

You will need only the first two to begin with, and Nelly already knows the first.

Most horses now and then require you to use both hands, and School-riding calls for their use in the more difficult feats. But an agreeable saddle beast should guide by the neck readily at all times. Stonehenge calls this a "highly desirable accomplishment," but it is really only the beginning of the alphabet of the horse's education; and indeed in the School airs, though both hands be used, the forehand is constantly thrown to one or the other side by the neck pressure, the direct tension of the rein being used to give the horse quite a different indication at the same moment.

Moreover, you will not always be able to devote two hands to Nelly. You may need one of them for something else. It would be embarrassing not to be able to use your whip or crop, or to button your glove, or to take off your hat, and at the same time to turn a corner or avoid a team. I have often ridden with people who so entirely relied upon both hands, that they had to draw rein for so simple a thing as the use of their handkerchief, lest their horse should fly the track while their right hand was so engaged. And while I am to a certain extent an advocate for the use of two hands, I cannot agree with the habit of the day of so constantly employing two that the horse and rider both lose the power of doing satisfactory work with one.

By all means teach Nelly to guide by the neck. When you have done this, you may resort to both hands again whenever you desire. And the habit of using both hands is certainly more apt to keep your shoulders, and hence your seat straight. But a horse who cannot be guided with one hand under all but the most exceptional conditions is not fit for saddle work on the road. In the more intricate paces of the School, indeed, the soldier uses but one hand; and though often more delicate hints can be imparted to a horse's mind by two, yet all except the greatest performances of the _manège_ can be accomplished with one, and a horse who is unable to rehearse perfectly all the road gaits and movements with the indications of one hand and two heels is sadly lacking in the knowledge he should boast.

You very naturally ask how this is to be taught. It is by no means difficult. Have you never noticed a groom riding a horse in a halter? Any steady horse can be so ridden. The halter rope is usually on the left side of the neck because the man has it in his hand when he jumps on, and he guides the horse by a pull on the halter rope if he wants him to turn to the left, and by laying the rope upon and pulling it across the neck pretty well up if he wants him to turn to the right. Now you will notice that if you hold the reins far up on Nelly's neck, half way from withers to ears, and pull them across the left (near) side of her neck, she will, after a little uncertainty, be apt to turn to the right, although the pull is on the left side of the bit. Try it and see. There,--she has done it, after some hesitation. And she did it because she felt that her head was being forced to the right and she very naturally followed it. The reverse will occur if you will pull the reins across the right (off) side of the neck. Some horses seize this idea very quickly, and it is only a matter of practice to keep them doing the same thing as you gradually bring the reins farther and farther down the neck till they lie where they should be, near the withers. If Nelly will thus catch the idea, a week or ten days will teach her a good deal, and in a month she will guide fairly well by the neck;--after which, practice makes perfect. If she had not seemed to catch the idea, and had turned the other way, it would have been because the pull on the bit impressed her mind rather than the pressure on the neck acting in the opposite way. Under such circumstances you should, when you press the rein on the near side of her neck, take hold of the off rein also and force her to turn to the right, trying to make the neck pressure a little more marked than that on the bit. A horse quickly learns to appreciate the difference between the direct pull of the rein on the bit and the indirect one made across the neck. None of the neat movements of the _manège_ can be executed unless a horse has learned absolutely to distinguish between an indication to turn, and one which is meant to lighten one side in order to prepare for a School movement, or to enable him to lead or exhibit pronounced action with that side.

At first you had perhaps better teach Penelope to guide only one way by the neck, using the rein alone for the other turn. But you can determine this by her intelligence. If there is any place where you can ride in an irregular circle or quadrangle, you can, after Nelly gets used to turning in a certain direction at the corners, press the reins on the opposite side of her neck as she is about to turn, so that she may get to associate this pressure with the movement in the direction away from it. This is the way horses learn in a riding-school. Or if she is going towards home and knows the corners she has to turn, do not let her make them of her own accord, but hold her away from them until you give her the neck pressure. Or you can zig-zag along the road if you are in a quiet place where people will not think that you are _toqué_, or that your mare has the staggers. It will thus not be long before Nelly gets the idea, and the mere idea, once caught, is quickly worked into a habit. Sometimes I have got a horse to guide passably well by the neck in a day. Oftener, it takes a week or two, while delicacy comes by very slow degrees.

XXXIV.

When you have got Nelly to the point where she guides fairly well by the neck, what next?

It is evident that the muscles of your mare's neck are rather rigid, for she carries it straight, though her crest is well curved. From this rigidity springs that resistance to the bit which she so constantly shows. A neck which arches easily means, as a rule, obedience to it. It is extremely rare that a horse will arch his neck, except when very fresh, so as to bring his mouth to the yielding position and keep it there, of his own volition; and then he is apt to pull on your hands. You must not suppose that an arched neck means that the horseman is worrying his beast to make him appear proud or prance for the purpose of showing off. It is precisely this which a good horseman never does. He always uses his bits gently. It is cruelty, as well as ruin to the horse's mouth, to hold him by the curb until his neck tires, and he leans upon it, held suspended by the equal torture of the chain and the aching muscles. A horse never should pull on a curb. If your hands are light, the curb rein may be loose and still the horse's head be in its proper position, that is, about perpendicular. The well-trained horse, without the slightest effort, arches his neck to the curb or snaffle alike, and keeps it so. It is only when his rider releases it, or chooses to let him "have his head" that he takes it. Often, in fact, a horse will not do so when you give him the chance. Patroclus here will get tired out, certainly completely tire me out, long before his bit becomes irksome. When trotting, or when galloping across the fields or in deep snow, I am often apt to let him carry his head as he chooses on account of the change or the extra exertion. But with his well-suppled neck I always feel certain that the slightest intimation of the bit will bring his head in place instead of meeting resistance. And he generally seems to prefer to bring his head well into the bit, so, as it were, to establish agreeable relations with you. I often notice that he feels unsteady if I give him his head too much. And when tired, he seems to like the encouragement given by light and lively hands all the more.

The first thing, then, to do is to get Penelope's neck suppled. This means that the naturally rigid muscles of the neck shall be by proper exercises made so supple as to allow the mare to bring her head to the position where there can be a constant "give and take" between your hands and her mouth. The usual outward sign of such suppleness is an arched neck, though as occasionally an habitual puller will arch his neck naturally, this is not an infallible sign. And some horses, especially thoroughbreds, however good their wind, will roar if you too quickly bring their heads in. This is because the wind-pipe of such horses is compressed too much by arching the neck. Thoroughbreds on the turf are wont to stick their noses out while running, because this affords them the best breathing power at very high speed. This habit becomes hereditary, and among them there are not a few who cannot readily be brought in by the bit. Sometimes, except as a feat, you can never supple such necks. Oftener, it only needs more time and patience,--in other words a slower process. A limber-necked thoroughbred has, however, the most delightful of mouths, except for the fact that he seems occasionally to draw or yield almost a yard of rein, owing to the length of his neck, and your hands have to be watched accordingly. If he has such a neck, the only safety, if he is high-strung, is never to let him beyond the hand.