through the cracks of the door.
«Oooh! They're boiling something. Whatever is it?» said Peter. «Horrible smell!»
They couldn't think what it was. They heard a lot of squealing again, and some snorting, and a thundering noise like muffled hooves thudding on stone. It was all very, very extraordinary.
The cupboard, made to take a few coats, was small and cold and airless. The two boys were very uncomfortable. They were glad when one of the men unlocked the door and told them to come out.
«Now, you let us go», began Peter, and got a rough blow on his shoulder at once.
«No cheek from you», said one of the men and hustled the boys to the cellar door. He thrust both of them through it, and they half-fell down the top steps. The door shut behind them. They could hear it being locked. Blow, blow! blow! Now they were prisoners too! A noise came from below them. Oh dear – was Kerry Blue down there, whoever he was?
«Switch your torch on», whispered Jack. «For goodness sake let's have a look at the prisoner and see what he's like!»
11 – The Prisoner
Peter switched on his torch, his hand trembling as he did so. What were they going to see?
What they saw was so surprising that both boys gave a gasp of amazement. They were looking down on a beautiful horse, whose pricked ears and rolling eyes showed that he was as scared as they were!
«A horse!» said Jack, feebly. «It's a horse!»
«Yes – that squealing was its frightened whinny – and thudding was its hooves on the stone floor when it rushed about in panic», said Peter. «Oh, Jack – poor, poor thing! How wicked to keep a horse down here like this! Why do they do it!»
«It's such a beauty. It looks like a racehorse», said Jack. «Do you suppose they've stolen it? Do you think they're hiding it here till they can change it to another colour, or something – horse thieves do do that, you know – and then sell it somewhere under a different name.»
«I don't know. You may be right», said Peter. «I'm going down to him.»
«Aren't you afraid?» said Jack. «Look at his rolling eyes!»
«No, I'm not afraid», said Peter, who was quite used to the horses on his father's farm, and had been brought up with them since he was a baby. «Poor thing – it wants talking to and calming.» Peter went down the steps, talking as he went. «So you're Kerry Blue, are you? And a beautiful name it is, too, for a beautiful horse! Don't be frightened, beauty. I'm your friend. Just let me stroke that velvety nose of yours and you'll be all right!»
The horse squealed and shied away. Peter took no notice. He went right up to the frightened creature and rubbed his hand fearlessly down its soft nose. The horse stood absolutely still. Then it suddenly nuzzled against the boy and made queer little snorting sounds.
«Jack, come on. The horse is friendly now», called Peter. «He's such a beauty. What brutes those men are to keep a horse down in a dark cellar like this. It's enough to make it go mad!»
Jack came down the steps. He stroked the horse's back and then gave an exclamation. «Ugh! He feels sticky and wet!»
Peter shone his torch on to the horse's coat. It gleamed wetly. «Jack! You were right! Those men have been dyeing him!» cried Peter. «His coat's still wet with the dye.»
«And that's the horrid smell we smelt – the dye being boiled up ready to use», said Jack. «Poor old Kerry Blue! What have they been doing to you?»
The horse had a mass of straw in one corner and a rough manger of hay in another. Oats were in a heavy pail. Water was in another pail.
«Well, if we want a bed, we'll have to use the straw», said Peter. «And have oats for a feed!»
«We shan't need to», said Jack. «I bet old Colin and George will come and look for us soon. We'll shout the place down as soon as we hear them!»
They settled down on the straw to wait. Kerry Blue decided to lie down on the straw too. The boys leaned against his warm body, wishing he didn't smell
«Oooh! They're boiling something. Whatever is it?» said Peter. «Horrible smell!»
They couldn't think what it was. They heard a lot of squealing again, and some snorting, and a thundering noise like muffled hooves thudding on stone. It was all very, very extraordinary.
The cupboard, made to take a few coats, was small and cold and airless. The two boys were very uncomfortable. They were glad when one of the men unlocked the door and told them to come out.
«Now, you let us go», began Peter, and got a rough blow on his shoulder at once.
«No cheek from you», said one of the men and hustled the boys to the cellar door. He thrust both of them through it, and they half-fell down the top steps. The door shut behind them. They could hear it being locked. Blow, blow! blow! Now they were prisoners too! A noise came from below them. Oh dear – was Kerry Blue down there, whoever he was?
«Switch your torch on», whispered Jack. «For goodness sake let's have a look at the prisoner and see what he's like!»
11 – The Prisoner
Peter switched on his torch, his hand trembling as he did so. What were they going to see?
What they saw was so surprising that both boys gave a gasp of amazement. They were looking down on a beautiful horse, whose pricked ears and rolling eyes showed that he was as scared as they were!
«A horse!» said Jack, feebly. «It's a horse!»
«Yes – that squealing was its frightened whinny – and thudding was its hooves on the stone floor when it rushed about in panic», said Peter. «Oh, Jack – poor, poor thing! How wicked to keep a horse down here like this! Why do they do it!»
«It's such a beauty. It looks like a racehorse», said Jack. «Do you suppose they've stolen it? Do you think they're hiding it here till they can change it to another colour, or something – horse thieves do do that, you know – and then sell it somewhere under a different name.»
«I don't know. You may be right», said Peter. «I'm going down to him.»
«Aren't you afraid?» said Jack. «Look at his rolling eyes!»
«No, I'm not afraid», said Peter, who was quite used to the horses on his father's farm, and had been brought up with them since he was a baby. «Poor thing – it wants talking to and calming.» Peter went down the steps, talking as he went. «So you're Kerry Blue, are you? And a beautiful name it is, too, for a beautiful horse! Don't be frightened, beauty. I'm your friend. Just let me stroke that velvety nose of yours and you'll be all right!»
The horse squealed and shied away. Peter took no notice. He went right up to the frightened creature and rubbed his hand fearlessly down its soft nose. The horse stood absolutely still. Then it suddenly nuzzled against the boy and made queer little snorting sounds.
«Jack, come on. The horse is friendly now», called Peter. «He's such a beauty. What brutes those men are to keep a horse down in a dark cellar like this. It's enough to make it go mad!»
Jack came down the steps. He stroked the horse's back and then gave an exclamation. «Ugh! He feels sticky and wet!»
Peter shone his torch on to the horse's coat. It gleamed wetly. «Jack! You were right! Those men have been dyeing him!» cried Peter. «His coat's still wet with the dye.»
«And that's the horrid smell we smelt – the dye being boiled up ready to use», said Jack. «Poor old Kerry Blue! What have they been doing to you?»
The horse had a mass of straw in one corner and a rough manger of hay in another. Oats were in a heavy pail. Water was in another pail.
«Well, if we want a bed, we'll have to use the straw», said Peter. «And have oats for a feed!»
«We shan't need to», said Jack. «I bet old Colin and George will come and look for us soon. We'll shout the place down as soon as we hear them!»
They settled down on the straw to wait. Kerry Blue decided to lie down on the straw too. The boys leaned against his warm body, wishing he didn't smell
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