These have never had their spirits broken; have never been scolded at
or struck except when a whip was necessary as a rod sometimes is for
a child. The hostlers who take care of them are not allowed to speak
roughly. "Be low-spoken to them," the master says. In the years when
he was educating them he groomed and cared for them himself, with no
other help except that of his two little sons. No one else was allowed
to meddle with them; and, necessarily, they were kept separate from
other horses. Now, wherever they are exhibiting, he always goes out
the first thing in the morning to see them. He passes from one to
another, and they are all expecting the little love pats and slaps
on their glossy sides, the caressings and fondlings and pleasant
greetings of "Chevalier, how are you, old fellow?" "Abdallah,
my beauty," and, "Nellie, my pet!" Some are jealous, Abdallah
tremendously so, and if he does not at once notice her, she lays her
ears back, shows temper, and crowds up to him, determined that no
other shall have precedence.

[Illustration: A PRETTY TABLEAU.]

They are not "thorough-breds." Those, he said, were for racers or
travellers; yet of fine breeds, some choice blood horses, some mixed,
one a mustang, who at first did not know anything that was wanted of
him.

"Why," said he, "at first some of them would go up like pop corn,
higher than my head. But I never once have been injured by one of them
except perhaps an accidental stepping on my foot. They never kick;
they don't know how to kick. You can go behind them as well as before,
and anywhere."