didn't. He remained behind his mother, hidden from Tom's sight.
Several more times Tom cautiously attempted to approach him, and only once did the colt stand still long enough for Tom to put a hand on him. He was able to run his hand up and down the short neck, but as soon as he moved the halter toward the head the colt drew back, frightened and rearing.
"You're goin' to make a balker of him sure as anything."
Uncle Wilmer called. "You let him get away from you now and you're goin' to have trouble with him, all right. Like I been tellin' you, you got to show him who's boss. You got to show him now."
Close to an hour went by with Tom making futile attempts to reach the colt. The sky glowed with the brilliant red of sunset. Tom moved with the colt, hoping to get the halter on him.
Uncle Wilmer still leaned upon the paddock fence, shaking his head repeatedly, shouting his criticisms.
And his uncle's words rang in Tom's ears even when the man was quiet. "You're lettin' him get away with it. I never seen the like of it. You're goin' to make him an outlaw, all right, if you don't show him who's boss right now. You got to teach him to do what you want. You got to have a firm hand."
As the minutes passed, Tom's eyes became more grave. Was his uncle right? he wondered. Was he letting the colt get away with too much? Jimmy Creech had said that he must have patience, but he had also said, "I don't mean you shouldn't have a firm hand with the colt. He's got to learn obedience and he has to learn it early."
Wasn't his uncle saying exactly that? Perhaps he was doing more harm than good by letting the colt get away from him. Perhaps the colt should be held, even against his will, while the halter was put on. He'd find the halter wouldn't hurt him. He'd get used to it and everything would be all right.
Tom waited until the colt's interest was diverted from him to the Queen, then he went forward, quietly walking up to the foal as he nursed. He placed a hand on the fuzzy coat, and the colt was too absorbed in his feeding to pay any attention to him. Tom ran his hands over the small body, waiting.
When the colt had finished he turned to Tom, but made no effort to get away. The boy knew that only his raising of the halter would cause the colt to run. His arm was around the colt, his body pressed close to him. All he had to do was to hold him still for a minute while he got the halter on him. His grip tightened about the muscular body. He thought he'd be able to hold him now. As he continued talking to the colt, he raised the halter.
A startled look came into the colt's eyes at sight of it. He felt the arm about his body. He pulled back, dragging Tom with him. Then he half-reared, twisting and turning as he came down.
Tom felt his grip on the writhing body slipping, and realized he couldn't hold him. Rather than fight the colt any longer, he let him go.
"Now y'did it!" his uncle yelled, coming into the paddock. "Y'tried to hold him an' he broke away from you! He'll never forget it if you don't teach him better."
Uncle Wilmer swept past Tom, still shouting. And before the boy had any inkling of what his uncle intended doing, the man had the colt hard up against the Queen's side.
The colt tried to get away, but Uncle Wilmer moved quickly, his long arms encircling the colt's chest and haunches. Then there was a sudden twist, and the man heaved the colt off his feet and threw him to the ground, holding him still with his hands and knees.
Tom was standing over his uncle, shouting and trying to pull him away from the colt, but the man paid no attention to him.
"Give me that halter," Uncle Wilmer growled, snatching it from the boy. "I'll teach him who's boss," he muttered as he slipped the halter over the small head. "I'll teach him, all right."
Uncle Wilmer and the colt were on their feet at almost the same time. The colt, now wearing the halter, ran quickly behind his mother.
Uncle Wilmer was leaving the paddock. Aunt Emma was
Several more times Tom cautiously attempted to approach him, and only once did the colt stand still long enough for Tom to put a hand on him. He was able to run his hand up and down the short neck, but as soon as he moved the halter toward the head the colt drew back, frightened and rearing.
"You're goin' to make a balker of him sure as anything."
Uncle Wilmer called. "You let him get away from you now and you're goin' to have trouble with him, all right. Like I been tellin' you, you got to show him who's boss. You got to show him now."
Close to an hour went by with Tom making futile attempts to reach the colt. The sky glowed with the brilliant red of sunset. Tom moved with the colt, hoping to get the halter on him.
Uncle Wilmer still leaned upon the paddock fence, shaking his head repeatedly, shouting his criticisms.
And his uncle's words rang in Tom's ears even when the man was quiet. "You're lettin' him get away with it. I never seen the like of it. You're goin' to make him an outlaw, all right, if you don't show him who's boss right now. You got to teach him to do what you want. You got to have a firm hand."
As the minutes passed, Tom's eyes became more grave. Was his uncle right? he wondered. Was he letting the colt get away with too much? Jimmy Creech had said that he must have patience, but he had also said, "I don't mean you shouldn't have a firm hand with the colt. He's got to learn obedience and he has to learn it early."
Wasn't his uncle saying exactly that? Perhaps he was doing more harm than good by letting the colt get away from him. Perhaps the colt should be held, even against his will, while the halter was put on. He'd find the halter wouldn't hurt him. He'd get used to it and everything would be all right.
Tom waited until the colt's interest was diverted from him to the Queen, then he went forward, quietly walking up to the foal as he nursed. He placed a hand on the fuzzy coat, and the colt was too absorbed in his feeding to pay any attention to him. Tom ran his hands over the small body, waiting.
When the colt had finished he turned to Tom, but made no effort to get away. The boy knew that only his raising of the halter would cause the colt to run. His arm was around the colt, his body pressed close to him. All he had to do was to hold him still for a minute while he got the halter on him. His grip tightened about the muscular body. He thought he'd be able to hold him now. As he continued talking to the colt, he raised the halter.
A startled look came into the colt's eyes at sight of it. He felt the arm about his body. He pulled back, dragging Tom with him. Then he half-reared, twisting and turning as he came down.
Tom felt his grip on the writhing body slipping, and realized he couldn't hold him. Rather than fight the colt any longer, he let him go.
"Now y'did it!" his uncle yelled, coming into the paddock. "Y'tried to hold him an' he broke away from you! He'll never forget it if you don't teach him better."
Uncle Wilmer swept past Tom, still shouting. And before the boy had any inkling of what his uncle intended doing, the man had the colt hard up against the Queen's side.
The colt tried to get away, but Uncle Wilmer moved quickly, his long arms encircling the colt's chest and haunches. Then there was a sudden twist, and the man heaved the colt off his feet and threw him to the ground, holding him still with his hands and knees.
Tom was standing over his uncle, shouting and trying to pull him away from the colt, but the man paid no attention to him.
"Give me that halter," Uncle Wilmer growled, snatching it from the boy. "I'll teach him who's boss," he muttered as he slipped the halter over the small head. "I'll teach him, all right."
Uncle Wilmer and the colt were on their feet at almost the same time. The colt, now wearing the halter, ran quickly behind his mother.
Uncle Wilmer was leaving the paddock. Aunt Emma was
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