“I thought Jane said you couldn’t race,” said Michael.

  “We can’t really,” answered Patrick.

  And Jane said, “They only won because Gregory was so slow.”

  “Nonsense,” said Michael. “Christmas went like a bomb; you lost because, between you, you muffed the first passing.”

  I could have cheered to hear someone telling Jane that her words were nonsense.

  “Don’t you think our steeds look wonderful?” said Celia. “We’ve just had them shod.”

  “Daddy said we could get them up now,” Michael explained, “for in less than a month now the cub hunting should start.”

  “And I want to ride Druid in the Hunter class at Barnstairs,” said Celia. “I don’t see why I shouldn’t; I don’t in the least mind being put in the back line.”

  “Ten days,” said Patrick doubtfully, looking at Druid’s figure.

  “I say, Celia, we were told to bring them in to lunch,” said Michael remembering suddenly. “We’d better hurry or there’ll be eruptions at the Deanery.”

  Patrick and I mounted and we all rode briskly up the lane. Adonis was gazing out over his door and his eyes widened at the sight of so many horsemen. We had no time to talk to him; we just rushed round with buckets of water and feeds and then hastened indoors.

  At lunch all the conversation was of the Barnstairs show. Celia said that she didn’t want to jump but that she would like to bend, and when Jane began to scowl she pointed out that Starry was her pony and that this was her last year in children’s classes. Michael said that if the musical poles were open he would like to enter Thunder. I could feel the atmosphere becoming hostile and I felt rather miserable for there were plenty of horses for the Merrimans. It was the presence of Patrick and me that was causing the difficulties.

  Gregory said, “Well, I don’t mind sharing Christmas with Sara, but she’s the only one of you who’s small enough.”

  “Look,” Patrick spoke suddenly, “why can’t Sara and I just have Adonis for the jumping and the showing? We don’t mind about the gymkhana events.”

  “Adonis?” said nearly everyone at once.

  “Why not?” asked Patrick. “He’s been shown before, hasn’t he?”

  “That’s true; he won several prizes before we bought him,” admitted Mrs. Merriman. “And he can’t have behaved too badly, because manners count quite a lot in the judging of children’s ponies.”

  “It’s not much good you entering for the jumping,” Jane told us. “I don’t enter because all the beastly pot hunters come—professionals with three or four ponies each. The sort of people who win at the White City.”

  “Some of the locals enter, but they don’t get much of a look in,” added Celia.

  “We don’t mind about winning. How high will the jumps be?” asked Patrick.

  “Huge,” said Celia. “Three feet six to four feet in the beginning and then they go up for the jump off.”

  “But that’s much too high for you, said Mummy in horrified tones.

  “No, it isn’t, Mummy, really,” said Patrick. We’ve been jumping practically three foot six and Adonis always clears that by at least a foot. You ask Mr Merriman, I bet he’ll say we can enter.”

  “Well, if he does, you can,” said Mummy.

  Jane said, “I’ll bet you have three refusals or gallop out of the ring.”

  “Patrick,” I said, as soon as we were alone together after lunch, “I think you’d better jump him. I mean, four feet’s enormous; I’m certain to fall off.”

  “O.K.”, answered Patrick. “That suits me and anyway you’ll make him look much more elegant in the showing; I’m too solid to look in proportion.”

  “I hope it’s going to be all right,” I said doubtfully.

  “Of course it is,” Patrick answered cheerfully. “We’ll give him plenty of work between now and then.”

  10

  The next few days were a mixture of good and bad. Adonis’s stock went up and down like a mad barometer, and Patrick’s and my hopes and fears went with it.

  The first adventure was definitely bad. It happened on the afternoon of the day of discovery when we went to turn Adonis out. I suppose he had been bored standing in the stable all day when he was used to the freedom of the fields. He pranced across the stableyard making grabs at the head collar rope with his teeth, and then, when we had walked only a few steps up the lane, he suddenly leapt in the air, knocking Patrick and me in opposite directions, gave several bucks and set off at a gallop. We picked ourselves up in time to see grey quarters and a triumphant tail disappear round the first bend.

  “Oh gosh,” said Patrick, “I simply couldn’t hold him; he barged me right off my feet.” And he added anxiously, “I hope he doesn’t go right to the end of the lane and out on the road.

  We ran as fast as we could in pursuit and we came round the next bend just in time to see Adonis turn across the lane and jump the gate into the field. He cleared it easily.

  “Gosh,” we said, dropping into a walk.

  “A five-barred gate,” I said excitedly.

  “And he cleared it by feet,” added Patrick.

  “He is naughty though,” I went on. “It’s terribly bad-mannered to knock us both over like that. Do you suppose anyone saw?”

  Patrick looked back. “You bet they did,” he said gloomily. “There’s a search party in pursuit of us.”

  I looked back and saw all the Merrimans riding bareback up the lane; they carried spare halters and their pockets bulged with oats.

  “Got him,” we yelled, waving our arms, and, “It’s O.K.” But the advancing hordes came on.

  “The mothers are coming too,” said Patrick even more gloomily. “Oh dear, I do hope they’re not going to make a fuss.”

  “Let’s go across and take his head collar off,” I suggested. “Then perhaps they’ll have forgotten about it by the time they catch up with us.”

  “Some hope,” said Patrick, but he hurried up the lane and, climbing the gate, we called to Adonis who walked over to meet us and blew unconcernedly in my hair. While Patrick undid the head collar we gave him a short lecture on the bad manners of knocking people into ditches, but he didn’t attend; with his ears pricked and his head high, he was listening to the other horses coming up the lane.

  “How did you catch him?” asked the Merrimans when they reached the field, and we explained that Adonis had jumped the gate.

  “He’s a ‘lepper’ all right, isn’t he?” said Michael in admiring accents.

  “But he doesn’t look very nice to lead,” added Celia.

  “He took us by surprise, that was all,” explained Patrick. “We shall be ready for him next time.”

  When the mothers came up we had to explain again about Adonis jumping the gate.

  “Next time you lead him he’s to wear a bridle,” said Mrs. Merriman.

  Mummy said, “You did give me a fright. I thought you were both going to be trampled on. You don’t understand what it’s like for mothers. My heart’s still doing peculiar things.”

  “It was our fault,” Patrick insisted. “We were gossiping.”

  Wednesday was wet. The weather had been fine for so long that we had forgotten that it could rain and everyone had lost his mackintosh or mislaid his string gloves. The Merrimans, filled with curiosity as to how Adonis would behave, all wanted to go for a hack with us and, when they promised to go quietly and not to gallop or fool about, we agreed to their company, very much against our better judgments. Patrick rode Adonis. I had Thunder and the Merrimans rode Warrior, Druid, Starry and Christmas. We made an impressive cavalcade but, from the very beginning, Adonis was awful. He was excited by the other horses and he didn’t like the rain. He bucked the whole way up the lane; he kicked at the cars which passed us on the road; he shied at every front door and garden gate as we rode through the village; and, at every opportunity, he barged into the other horses. Patrick’s face became redder and redder and his crash cap was permanently over his eyes. Jane looked irritatingly smug and the other Merrimans made well-meant but unhelpful suggestions.

  At last Patrick asked me for my whip. “I’m going to have a showdown,” he said, and he proceeded to hit Adonis who leapt and bucked and kicked more violently than ever.

  “Oh, do be careful,” said Celia.

  “You’ll have him down,” warned Michael.

  “Mind Starry; I don’t want her kicked. I always told you that he was a vicious brute, only none of you believed me,” said Jane.

  “He’s just being nappy,” gasped Patrick breathlessly. “He’s gone right behind the bit.”

  And he continued to battle with Adonis, using his legs and his seat and my stick and paying no attention to the rest of us. We divided our time between gazing with horror at Adonis’s antics and trying to keep out of his way. When we left the roads and came to a heath, Patrick’s efforts began to have some effect. Adonis took the lead. He looked lovely tearing along at his best extended trot, but every time he saw an odd-looking tree stump he tried to swing round and join the other ponies, and every time there was a rustle in the undergrowth he tried to shoot forward into a gallop. Patrick, realising that it was all naughtiness and that Adonis wasn’t in the least afraid, was very stern with him. With Patrick leading the way at such a fast pace and with the general excitement the horses were all sweating. Michael looking at Warrior’s dripping neck and heaving sides said that if this was what the Huntingdons called a quiet ride he shuddered to think what sort of pace they rode normally, and Celia shouted to Patrick to walk if he could as she wanted to cool Druid off. Adonis walked a few steps and then he began to shy again; Patrick hit him and he shot off at a gallop.

  When Patrick had him walking again he shouted back to us, “Sorry, but I can’t keep him up to his bit at the walk; it’s all right at the trot. I’ll go on ahead.”

  “We’d better all trot on,” said Michael. “We don’t want to lose him. We can walk the horses about afterwards to cool them off.”

  The Merrimans couldn’t keep quiet about Adonis’s behaviour: they discussed it throughout lunch and drove Mummy into a nervous state with their lurid descriptions of his bucks and kicks. It was only the fact that Patrick hadn’t fallen off that saved us. If he had, I have a feeling that we would never have been allowed to ride Adonis again and certainly Mr. Merriman’s decision would have been reversed and we would have had to have scratched from the show.

  The next day Patrick and I hacked separately from the Merrimans. It was my turn to ride Adonis and, following Patrick’s example of the day before, I was very firm with him. I used my legs and drove with my seat and hit him with my stick and made him go in front of Rupert and walk and trot out properly. I felt rather mean, but I knew that if I didn’t we would be kicking at cars and shying all the way home and that he would probably disgrace us at the show. When we got home I felt so tired that I could only flop about uselessly for the rest of the day.

  Patrick admitted that he had felt the same after his ride the day before. “But it’s probably jolly good for us,” he said. “After all we are using our seats and backs and I suppose in the end we shall get used to it.”

  On the Friday of that week the ground was dry enough for us to school again. Patrick and I rose fairly early to bring Adonis in and groom him before breakfast in order that we might school him before the Merrimans began to ride. They seemed slightly offended, but actually it worked very well, for not only did Adonis behave and attend much better than if there had been a crowd of horses, but Patrick and I having done our serious schooling felt much more in the mood for mad races and bareback jumping competitions on Thunder and Rupert.

  It was marvellous to find that at last we could hold our own among the Merrimans. Patrick won the potato race, which took ages now that there were so many of us. We were second and third in the bareback jumping. I was second in the walk, trot and canter, which Michael and Warrior won, and Patrick and I were the first pair home in the Gretna Green race. Jane’s attitude to us was changing; she seemed to like us better now that we could beat her at everything except bending.

  On Saturday and Sunday there was no time for riding. Mr. Merriman was at home, there were grown-up visitors, and we boated, swam and picnicked ceaselessly. In consequence all the horses and ponies were very fresh on Monday morning and once again Adonis disgraced himself. It was Patrick’s and my fault because we allowed the Merrimans to influence us. They had arranged a new course over which we were to have a jumping competition and as soon as they had loosened their mounts up they wanted to begin. Adonis, excited by the presence of the other horses, was being very silly and disobedient. Of course we should have gone on schooling him until he was behaving properly, but we didn’t like to keep the Merrimans waiting any longer, so we agreed to begin.

  Christmas jumped first, over a slightly lower course, and had two refusals. Jane cleared everything except the triple. Michael on Thunder had four faults, Rupert and I had six; Celia didn’t enter because neither Warrior or Druid were fit enough to jump yet and then came Adonis. I was shocked by his behaviour. He took one look at the jumps and all our schooling was forgotten; with his jaw set, his head in the air and bis ears laid back, he raced at them. He jumped inside out—with a flat back instead of a rounded one—and he scattered the bars this way and that.

  The Merrimans were very nice—even Jane. They sensed our disappointment and talked busily of other things. Patrick, looking grim, took Adonis away and began cavaletti work again from the beginning.

  We were disheartened. We both felt miserable for the rest of the day and Patrick wondered ceaselessly what we had done wrong, what could have made Adonis go back to his old habits. Each time he thought of a possible solution he came to tell me, so it was quite impossible for me to think of anything else. “I’ll tell you what,” he said after dinner when we were taking Macgregor for an evening stroll, “we haven’t been doing half so much extended work lately. I vote we ride at the extended trot and canter the whole time tomorrow. That might put him on his bit and it certainly ought to quieten him down.”

  “O.K.,” I agreed, “and don’t you think we ought to get up early? The Merrimans are so awfully distracting and one can’t help wanting to join in some of the races.”

  “Yes, I’ll wake you at dawn,” answered Patrick. “There’s no time to be lost with only four days to the show.”

  Those four days passed at a fearful speed. On Tuesday morning we rode for three-quarters of an hour each, mostly at the extended trot or canter. At the end of it Adonis seemed quite sensible and subdued and wasn’t shying, bucking or pulling, and his head was in the proper place and not stuck up in the air. We didn’t jump him; we decided to postpone that until the next day.

  After breakfast we rode again; we took Adonis and Rupert out for a ride and bullied poor Adonis into leading the whole way. Of course by lunch-time both Patrick and I were in a state of collapse and we had to spend the afternoon lying on the lawn. But the next morning, when we rose early again, we did not regret our efforts. Adonis behaved marvellously. We schooled him for a long time and then we changed his snaffle for a double bridle and began to practise for the show. The Merrimans had told us that I would have to show him in his double bridle. It was very stiff and new-looking for it had hardly ever been worn, but he didn’t mind it at all, in fact it didn’t seem to make much difference. Patrick was the judge and I showed Adonis. Having ridden him round an imaginary ring at the walk, trot and canter, I was called in to stand in an imaginary front line. Then Patrick asked me for an individual show. We both knew very little about riding in shows; we had watched one or two but most of our knowledge came from books and they never tell you what the judges say, they only tell you that “you will be required to canter on both reins with the appropriate leading leg.” Patrick, imitating the deep voice of Squadron-Leader Hopkins, said abruptly, “Kindly canter on each leg in turn and then rein back.” I replied, “Certainly,” in my most dignified manner and, having trotted round for a bit first to settle Adonis, cantered two circles and reined back.

  “Excellent,” muttered Patrick, still in a deep voice. “Now lead him out in hand. No, not like that,” he shouted in his ordinary voice as I set off at a run with Adonis bucking beside me. “You have to take his saddle off and make him stand with all his legs properly arranged while I look for cow hocks or something.”

  “Oh gosh, yes,” I said. “I ought to have a groom with a rubber to come in and help. Like they did at the White City, do you remember?”

  “Yes,” said Patrick, thinking of something else. “The book says that the horse must stand in front of the judge squarely on all four legs.”

  I pushed Adonis backwards and forwards until Patrick thought he looked square and then I trotted him up. I discovered that if I made him trot before I began to run he remained quite sensible and didn’t start to buck or play chasing games with me.

  When Patrick had given us the first prize, the championship and a host of specials, he said that it was his turn; that I was to judge the jumping, but that, first of all, he must alter the course. Apparently he’d been reading a book on show jumping and he had decided that all the Merrimans’ jumps came down much too easily. “We know that Adonis can jump four feet,” he said, “and that he’s only being tiresome when he knocks down three feet three. So we turn all the posts round, then the bars rest against them and they give him quite a good knock before they fall down.”

  “It sounds beastly,” I said.

  “The book says that it’s much safer for both horse and rider in the long run, as it prevents the horse from taking liberties with fixed timber out hunting,” answered Patrick. “Anyhow let’s try it.”

  When we had arranged the course with all the jumps at three feet six or slightly over and changed Adonis’s bridle again, Patrick rode him round a bit more to get him going well and then he put him at the brush, which had a rail above it He cleared that and the wall with ease, but the gate, which was rather a difficult distance from the wall, he treated flippantly, neglecting to round his back at all, but skimming over anyhow and catching it a good bang with his forelegs. The gate did fall but not before it had given him a good bang back With a surprised expression on his face and pricked ears, Adonis took the other jumps more carefully and cleared them all easily.