Tip:
Highlight text to annotate it
X
Black Beauty by Anna Sewell CHAPTER 02.
The Hunt
Before I was two years old a circumstance happened which I have never forgotten.
It was early in the spring; there had been a little frost in the night, and a light
mist still hung over the woods and meadows.
I and the other colts were feeding at the lower part of the field when we heard,
quite in the distance, what sounded like the cry of dogs.
The oldest of the colts raised his head, pricked his ears, and said, "There are the
hounds!" and immediately cantered off, followed by the rest of us to the upper
part of the field, where we could look over the hedge and see several fields beyond.
My mother and an old riding horse of our master's were also standing near, and
seemed to know all about it.
"They have found a hare," said my mother, "and if they come this way we shall see the
hunt." And soon the dogs were all tearing down the
field of young wheat next to ours.
I never heard such a noise as they made. They did not bark, nor howl, nor whine, but
kept on a "yo! yo, o, o! yo! yo, o, o!" at the top of their voices.
After them came a number of men on horseback, some of them in green coats, all
galloping as fast as they could.
The old horse snorted and looked eagerly after them, and we young colts wanted to be
galloping with them, but they were soon away into the fields lower down; here it
seemed as if they had come to a stand; the
dogs left off barking, and ran about every way with their noses to the ground.
"They have lost the scent," said the old horse; "perhaps the hare will get off."
"What hare?"
I said.
"Oh! I don't know what hare; likely enough it may be one of our own hares out of the
woods; any hare they can find will do for the dogs and men to run after;" and before
long the dogs began their "yo! yo, o, o!"
again, and back they came altogether at full speed, making straight for our meadow
at the part where the high bank and hedge overhang the brook.
"Now we shall see the hare," said my mother; and just then a hare wild with
fright rushed by and made for the woods.
On came the dogs; they burst over the bank, leaped the stream, and came dashing across
the field followed by the huntsmen. Six or eight men leaped their horses clean
over, close upon the dogs.
The hare tried to get through the fence; it was too thick, and she turned sharp round
to make for the road, but it was too late; the dogs were upon her with their wild
cries; we heard one shriek, and that was the end of her.
One of the huntsmen rode up and whipped off the dogs, who would soon have torn her to
pieces.
He held her up by the leg torn and bleeding, and all the gentlemen seemed well
pleased.
As for me, I was so astonished that I did not at first see what was going on by the
brook; but when I did look there was a sad sight; two fine horses were down, one was
struggling in the stream, and the other was groaning on the grass.
One of the riders was getting out of the water covered with mud, the other lay quite
still.
"His neck is broke," said my mother. "And serve him right, too," said one of the
colts. I thought the same, but my mother did not
join with us.
"Well, no," she said, "you must not say that; but though I am an old horse, and
have seen and heard a great deal, I never yet could make out why men are so fond of
this sport; they often hurt themselves,
often spoil good horses, and tear up the fields, and all for a hare or a fox, or a
stag, that they could get more easily some other way; but we are only horses, and
don't know."
While my mother was saying this we stood and looked on.
Many of the riders had gone to the young man; but my master, who had been watching
what was going on, was the first to raise him.
His head fell back and his arms hung down, and every one looked very serious.
There was no noise now; even the dogs were quiet, and seemed to know that something
was wrong.
They carried him to our master's house. I heard afterward that it was young George
Gordon, the squire's only son, a fine, tall young man, and the pride of his family.
There was now riding off in all directions to the doctor's, to the farrier's, and no
doubt to Squire Gordon's, to let him know about his son.
When Mr. Bond, the farrier, came to look at the black horse that lay groaning on the
grass, he felt him all over, and shook his head; one of his legs was broken.
Then some one ran to our master's house and came back with a gun; presently there was a
loud *** and a dreadful shriek, and then all was still; the black horse moved no
more.
My mother seemed much troubled; she said she had known that horse for years, and
that his name was "Rob Roy"; he was a good horse, and there was no vice in him.
She never would go to that part of the field afterward.
Not many days after we heard the church- bell tolling for a long time, and looking
over the gate we saw a long, strange black coach that was covered with black cloth and
was drawn by black horses; after that came
another and another and another, and all were black, while the bell kept tolling,
tolling. They were carrying young Gordon to the
churchyard to bury him.
He would never ride again. What they did with Rob Roy I never knew;
but 'twas all for one little hare.