Part 3.
Chapter 13.
At the Horse Fair.
A horse fair is an exciting event with plenty to see and do.
And one can't imagine all the breeds of horses on view.
Long lines of young horses from the country and shaggy little Welsh ponies no taller than Mary Legs were everywhere.
And there were a good many like myself, handsome and well-bred.
Hundreds of cart horses, some with their long tails braided and tied, were displayed.
Some horses were showing off their trots to the crowd.
This is what one sees out in the open.
Around back, though, things were different.
Some horses were hurting from too much work, with sores on their backs and hips.
Their knees and hind legs jerked as they walked.
Some were so thin you could see their ribs.
Many looked as if there was no more pleasure left in life.
When I came to the fair, I was put with two or three other strong, good-looking horses.
A lot of people looked me over but turned their heads away when they saw my broken knees.
There was a lot of bargaining when the horse sales began.
If a horse could speak though, I would say they were more lies told and more trickery at that horse, fair than truths.
The man who sold me said it was only from a slip in the stall.
People pulled my mouth open, looked in my eyes, and felt all the way down my legs.
They liked to watch me trot.
It was funny how different the people were who came to see me.
Some looked me over in a rough manner, like I was made of wood, while others would move their hands gently over me.
Of course, I was also judging the buyers by how they treated me.
There was one man whom I wished would buy me.
I knew by how he acted that he was kind to horses.
He spoke gently and had a cheery look in his eyes.
When he offered a sum of money for me, the dealer turned it down.
Then he walked away, and a loud, dreadful man offered the dealer the same amount of money.
They were arguing over the price when the man with the kind eyes came back.
I reached my head toward him and he stroked my face kindly.
Well, old boy, he said, I think we should get along just fine.
You seem worth the little bit more he wants.
The salesman and the kind man made a deal and my new master led me out of the fair.
He gave me a good feed of oats and talked to me.
Soon we were on our way to London.
By night we had reached the great city.
The gas lamps were already lit.
There were streets crossing one another for miles and miles.
At last we came to a long wooden booth called a cab stand.
Good night, governor, I heard my new master call out.
Hey, cried a voice.
Did you get a good one?
Think so, replied my owner.
I wish you luck with him.
Thank you, governor.
He replied and rode on.
We soon turned on to a very narrow street with houses on one side and stables on the other.
My owner pulled up to one of the houses and whistled a door flew open.
A young woman, followed by a little girl and a boy, ran out as my master dismounted me.
Open the gates.
Harry and Mother will bring us a lantern.
The next minute they were all standing around me in the stable.
Is he gentle, Father?
Yes, Dolly, as gentle as your kitten.
Come over and pat him.
At once the little hand was patting me on my shoulder without fear.
How good it felt.
Let me give him some bran mash while you rub him down, said the mother.
That's just what he wants, the man said.
And how about me, he asked.
Do I get some mash, too?
The woman smiled.
Sausage, dumpling, and apple turnover, she said.
My new master's name was Jeremiah Barker, but everyone called him Jerry.
Polly, his wife, was a plump little woman with dark hair, dark eyes, and a merry little mouth.
Their son Harry was twelve years old, and his sister Dolly was eight.
They were a loving family.
I was led into a clean-smelling stall with plenty of dry straw.
After a wonderful supper, I lay down, thinking I was going to be happy.
