Chapter 5 A Little Devil One day, John and I were out on some business of our master's.
We saw a boy trying to make his pony leap over a gate.
The pony would not jump over the high gate, though the boy hit him hard with a whip.
The boy, angry because his pony wouldn't listen, got down off the pony and hit him several times in the head.
He got up on the animal again and whipped him hard and kicked him.
Still, the pony wouldn't jump.
When we got very near the two, we saw the pony put his head down and throw up his heels.
He kicked so hard, he sent the boy over a hedge.
Serves you right, John laughed out loud.
Come help me, called the boy.
Maybe being thrown into the hedges will teach you a lesson.
You shouldn't jump a pony over a gate that's too high for him.
The boys seemed all right, and John and I rode off.
On the way though, John decided to stop off at Farmer Bushby's to tell him about the boys' cruelty to the pony.
When we arrived, the farmer and his wife were hurrying onto the road, looking very frightened.
Have you seen my boy? asked Mr. Bushby.
He went out an hour ago on my black pony, and the animal has just come back without him.
The poor pony is better off without a rider, John replied.
Your son should not be riding a pony if he can't treat it fairly.
What do you mean?
Asked the farmer.
I saw your son whipping and kicking and punching that little pony simply because he wouldn't leap a gate that was too high for him.
The pony behaved well and tried its best, but finally he could take it no more.
He kicked up his heels and threw the boy off.
Your son wanted me to help him but I'm sorry to say, I didn't feel like helping.
Don't worry, he didn't break any bones.
He only has a few scratches, but I love horses, and it upsets me to see them badly used.
The mother began to cry.
Oh, my poor Bill.
I must go and meet him.
He must be hurt.
Go inside, dear, the man said to his wife.
Bill needs to be taught a lesson.
This is not the first time he has been mean to that animal.
Then to John he said, Thank you so much for telling me, sir.
Later I heard John say something about cruelty being the devil's trademark.
John and I went home, happy to have helped that poor pony.
One morning in early December, my master came into the stable carrying a letter in his hand.
Come here, James, said the master.
I have a letter from my brother-in-law, Sir Clifford Williams of Clifford Hall.
His coachman, who has cared for his horses for years, is getting old.
He wants a younger man to learn the job.
He would pay you well, and it would be a good start, although I would hate to lose you.
John looked his way.
I would hate to lose you as well, James, but I would never stand in your way for the world.
A few days after this conversation, it was settled that James should go to Clifford Hall in a month.
Everyone was sure he would be wonderful at his new job.