e to us, she
had a trick of biting at a person who gave her oats. She would do it
without fail, so father put a little stick under his arm, and every time
she would bite, he would give her a rap over the nose. She soon got
tired of biting, and gave it up. Sometimes now, you'll see her make a
snap at father as if she was going to bite, and then look under his arm
to see if the stick is there. He cured some of her tricks in one way,
and some in another. One bad one she had was to start for the stable the
minute one of the traces was unfastened when we were unharnessing. She
pulled father over once, and another time she ran the shaft of the sulky
clean through the barn door. The next time father brought her in, he got
ready for her. He twisted the lines around his hands, and the minute she
began to bolt, he gave a tremendous jerk, that pulled her back upon her
haunches, and shouted, 'Whoa!' It cured her, and she never started
again, till he gave her the word. Often now, you'll see her throw her
head back when she is being unhitched. He only did it once, yet she
remembers. If we'd had the training of Scamp, she'd be a very different
animal. It's nearly all in the bringing up of a colt, whether it will
turn out vicious or gentle. If any one were to strike Fleetfoot, he
would not know what it meant. He has been brought up differently from
Scamp.

"She was probably trained by some brutal man who inspired her with
distrust of the human species. She never bites an animal, and seems
attached to all the other horses. She loves Fleetfoot and Cleve and
Pacer. Those three are her favorites."

"I love to go for drives with Cleve and Pacer," said Miss Laura, "they
are so steady and good. Uncle says they are the most trusty horses he
has. He has told me about the man you had, who said that those two
horses knew more than most 'humans.'"

"That was old Davids," said Mr. Harry; "when we had him, he was courting
a widow who lived over in Hoytville. About once a fortnight, he'd ask
father for one of the horses to go over to see her. He always stayed
pretty late, and on the way home he'd tie the reins to the whip-stock
and go to sleep, and never wake up till Cleve or Pacer, whichever one he
happened to have, would draw up in the barnyard. They would pass any
rigs they happened to meet, and turn out a little for a man. If Davids
wasn't asleep, he could always tell by the difference in their gait
which they were passing. They'd go quickly p