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this was fortunate for the newcomer, who proved at first an obdurate pupil.scientists tell us, of course, that in relative brainpower the horse ranks low in the animal scalelower than the domestic pig, in fact.this may be so, but bilfred was certainly an exception.it was obvious, too obvious, that he _thought_, that he definitely used his brain to question the advisability of doing any given thing.to his rebellious celtic nature there must have been added a percentage of scotch caution.when any new performance was demanded of him he would ask himself, is there any personal risk in this, and even if not, is there any sense in doing it? unless satisfied on these points he would plead ignorance and fear and anger alternately until convinced that it would be less unpleasant to acquiesce.for instance, being driven round in a circle in the riding school at the end of a long rope struck him as a silly business; but when he discovered (after a week) that he could neither break the rope nor kick the man who was holding it, he (metaphorically) shrugged his shoulders and trotted or walked, according to orders, with a considerable show of willing intelligence.it took four men half a day to shoe him for the first time, and he was in a white lather when they had finished.but on the next and on every subsequent occasion he was as docile as any veteran.a saddle was first placed upon him, at a moment when his attention was distracted by a handful of corn offered to him by a confederate of the roughriders.he even allowed himself to be girthed up without protest.but when, suddenly and without due warning, he felt the weight of a man upon his back, his horror was apparent.for a moment he stood stock still, trembling slightly and breathing hard.then he made a mighty bound forward and started to kick his best.to no purpose; he could not get his head down, and the more he tried, the more it hurt him.the weight meanwhile remained upon his back.exhausted, he stood still again and gave vent to a loud snort.his face depicted his thoughts.im done for, he felt; this thing is here for ever.he was soothed and petted until his first panic had subsided; then coaxed into a good humour again with oats.at the end of a minute or so he was induced to move forwardcautiously, nervously at first, and then with more confidence.unpleasant but not dangerous, was his verdict.in half an hour he was resigned to his burden.yet not entirely.every day when first mounted he gave two or three hearty kicks.he hated the cold saddle on his back for one thing, and for another there was always a vague hope.one day, about a fortnight afterwards, this hope fructified.a looseseated rider, in a moment of bravado, got upon him, and immediately the customary performance began.at the second plunge the man shot up into space and landed heavily on the tan.bilfred, palpably as astonished as he was pleased, tossed his head, snorted in triumph and bolted round the school, kicking at intervals.for five thrilling minutes he enjoyed the best time he had had since he left connemara.then, ignominiously, he succumbed to the temptation of a proffered feed tin and was caught, discovering too late, to his chagrin, that the tin was empty.it was his first experience of the deceitfulness of man, and he did not forget it.six weeks later he had become a most accomplished person.he could walk and trot and even canter in a lumbering way; he answered to rein and leg, could turn and twist, go sideway and backwards; greatest miracle of all, he had been taught to lurch in ungainly fashion over twofootsix of furze.but he had accomplished something beyond all this.he had acquired a reputation.it had become known throughout the battery that there were certain things which could not be done to bilfred with impunity.if you were his stable companion, for example, you could not try to steal his food without getting bitten, neither could you nibble the hairs of his tail without getting kicked.if you were a human being you could not approach him in his stall until you had spoken to him politely from outside it.you could not attempt to groom him until you had made friends with him, and even then you had to keep your eyes open.you got used to the way he gnashed his teeth and tossed his head about, but occasionally, when you were occupied with the ticklish underpart of him, he would show his dislike of the operation by catching you unawares by the slack of your breeches and throwing you out of his stall.but there was no vice in him.he was always amenable to kindness, and prepared to accept gifts of sugar and bread with every symptom of gratitude and approval.rumour even had it that he had once eaten the stablemans dinner with apparent relish.and he flourished exceedingly in his new environment.his baby roundness had disappeared and been replaced by hard muscle

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