Part 10

The School method is different; but the School requires that the curb and snaffle shall be used for different indications or "aids" to convey the rider's meaning to the horse, and not at the same time. In ordinary saddle work it is generally convenient to employ the reins together. Gather your reins up with me. The near curb outside little finger, near snaffle between little and third fingers, off snaffle between third and middle, off curb between middle and index, all four gathered flat above index and held in place by thumb, knuckles up. Or easier, take up your snaffle by the buckle and pass the third finger of left hand between its reins; then take up the curb and pass the little, third, and middle fingers between its reins. The snaffle reins, you see, are thus inside the curb reins, each is easily reached and distinguished and you can shift hold from left hand to right, or vice versa, more readily than in any other way, by merely placing one hand, with fingers spread to grasp the reins, in front of the other. By having the loop of each rein hanging separate so that the free hand can seize it quickly, either can be shortened or lengthened at will, or they may be so together. Moreover, this hold affords the easiest method of changing from one to both hands and back.

For if you insert your right little finger between the off reins, and your third finger inside the snaffle rein, and draw the off reins from your left hand slightly, you have a very handy means of using both hands, with the additional value that you can either drop the right reins by easing the length of the left ones to equalize the pressure on the horse's mouth; or by grasping the left reins with right middle finger over snaffle and first finger over curb, you can shift to the right hand entirely. When in this position you can again use the left hand by inserting its fingers in front of the right one and closing upon the reins, as already indicated. In fact, without lengthening the near reins, but merely by placing the right hand in any convenient way on the off ones, you may be ready to use both hands in entirely proper fashion. And in this day of two-handed riding, it is advisable to be able to follow the fashion quickly.

For School airs, this also affords an easy way of using separately curb and snaffle, as is often necessary.

If you are riding with single reins, you will place them on either side of third or little finger, or embracing little, third, and middle fingers and up under thumb in similar manner. A single rein may be held in many ways.

With all other double-rein methods, except the one described, you have to alter the position of reins in shifting from hand to hand. With this one the order of reins and fingers remains the same.

Any other system of holding the reins which you prefer will do as well, if you become expert at it. I have tried them all, from Baucher's down, and have always reverted to what was shown me thirty odd years ago.

Your curb chain should be looser than it is, Tom. A horse needing a stiff curb is unsuited to any but an expert rider, and must have a great many splendid qualities to make up for this really bad one. Some people like a mouth they can hold on by, but they do not make fine horsemen. Never ride on your horse's mouth, or, as they say, "ride your bridle." Many men like a hunter who "takes hold of you," but this won't do on the road, if you seek comfort or want a drilled horse. You see that Nelly keeps jerking at the curb. Let out a link, at least. An untrained horse seeks relief from the curb by poking out his nose, the trained one by giving way to it and arching his neck. It is better at first only to ride on your snaffle rein, leaving your curb rein reasonably loose; or else you may use only a snaffle bit and single rein for a while. But unless you very early learn that your reins are to afford no support whatever to your seat, you will never be apt to learn it. Don't use a martingale unless your horse is a star-gazer, or else tosses his head so as to be able to strike you. It tends to make you lean upon the rein and confines your horse's head.

XXX.

You have now been out a half-dozen times with your new purchase, Tom, and you have managed to get along much to your own satisfaction. You have neither slipped off, nor has Penelope misbehaved. But you are intelligent enough to see that there is something beyond this for you and her to learn. I do not know how ambitious you are. If you want to make Nelly's forehand and croup so supple that you can train her into the finest gaits and action, you must go to work on the stable floor with an hour a day at least of patient teaching, for a number of weeks. For this purpose you must have a manual of instruction, such as I have shown you, and quite a little stock of leisure and particularly of good temper.

The ordinary English trainer thinks that a good mouth may be made in two weeks, by strapping a colt's reins to his surcingle for an hour or two daily, and by longeing with a cavesson. But excellent as cavesson work may be, this means alone will by no means produce the quality of mouth which the Baucher method will make, or which you should aim to give to Nelly.

Still I know that you have but limited time, Tom, and that you want your daily ride to educate both yourself and your mare. This can be accomplished after a fashion; but it is only what the primary school is to the university,--good, as far as it goes. The trouble with beginning to supple a horse's neck when in motion is that you ask him to start doing two things at once, that is, move forward at command and obey your reins, and he will be apt to be somewhat confused. He will not as readily understand what you want him to do, as if standing quiet and undisturbed.

With plenty of courage, Tom, Penelope seems to have a very gentle disposition. Almost all of our American horses have. They are not as apt to be spoiled in the breaking-in as they are abroad. And I fancy she is intelligent. You should have no difficulty in training her, and in teaching her a habit of obedience which she will never forget.

It is all but an axiom that an unspoiled horse will surely do what he knows you want him to do, unless he is afraid to do it, or unless, as is generally the case, you yourself are at fault. The difficulty lies in making him understand you. Remember this, and keep your patience always. If a horse is roguish, as he often will be, it is only a moment's play, and he will at once get over it, unless you make it worse by unnecessary fault-finding. I generally laugh at a horse instead of scolding him. He understands the tone if not the words, and it turns aside the occasion for a fight or for punishment.

Never invite a fight with a horse. Avoid it whenever you can accomplish your end by other means. Never decline it when it must come. But either win the fight or reckon on having a spoiled horse on your hands, who will never thoroughly obey you.

And remember that a horse who obeys from fear is never as tractable, safe, or pleasant as one who has been taught by gentle means, and with whom the habit of obeying goes hand in hand with love for his master and pleasure in serving him. I do not refer to those creatures which have already been made equine brutes by the stupidity or cruelty of human brutes. One of these may occasionally need more peremptory treatment, but under proper tuition even such an one needs it rarely.

XXXI.

Let us have a trot, and see how Penelope moves, and how you sit. You, Tom, will take your pace from me. There is nothing more unhorsemanlike and annoying than for a rider to keep half a horse's length in front of his companion. Your stirrup should be even with mine. A gentleman can be a foot or two in front of a lady, for safety and convenience, but men should ride as they would walk, all but arm in arm. Now you can see the effects of education. Penelope insists on trotting a twelve-mile gait, and no wonder, for she has such fine, open action, that a sharp gait is less effort to her than a slow one. On the contrary, I, who, as the senior, have the right to give the pace, am satisfied with two-thirds that speed; and Patroclus, who, as you well know, can easily out-trot, or, I fancy, out-run your mare, and would dearly like to try it, yields himself to my mood without an ounce of pull or friction. Look at his reins. They are quite loose. Now look at yours. Nelly is pulling and fretting for all she is worth, while you are working your passage. Two miles like that will take three out of her and five out of you. She will fume herself into a lather soon, while Pat will not have turned a hair. She certainly is a candidate for training. You appear to need all the strength of your arms to pull her down to a walk, whereas a simple turn of the wrist, or a low-spoken word, should suffice.

By the way, always indulge in the habit of talking to your horse. You have no idea of how much he will understand. And if he is in the habit of listening for your words, and of paying heed to what you say, he will be vastly more obedient as well as companionable. Patroclus and I often settle very knotty questions on the road. We think we helped elect Cleveland. And I must confess that occasionally a passer-by fancies that I am talking to myself, whereas, if he but knew the meaning of Patroclus' lively ears, he would see what a capital comrade I have, and one, moreover, who, like one's favorite book, is never impertinent enough to answer back, or flout you with excessive wisdom. It is certainly a very pleasant study to see how many words or phrases a horse can learn the meaning of, and act intelligently when he hears them.

XXXII.

What, then, shall you do first in the way of education? Well, let us see. As Nelly has been broken to harness, she can probably only walk and trot. You, yourself, seem to stick fairly well to the saddle. But how about your own position? Your leathers are a trifle long. They should be of just such length that, when you are in the middle of the saddle, on your seat, not your crotch, with the ball of your foot in the stirrups, your feet are almost parallel with the ground, the heel a trifle lower than the toes. Your toes are below your heels, you see. You should be able to get your heels well down when you settle into your saddle. The old rule of having the stirrups just touch the ankle-bone when the foot is hanging is not a bad one. The arm measure is unreliable, and physical conformation, as well as different backed horses, often require, even in a sound man, odd lengths of leathers.

You should not attempt to ride with your feet "home" until you can keep your stirrup under the ball of your foot without losing it, whatever your horse may do; and when you do ride "home," you should occasionally change back to the ball of your foot, so as to keep in practice. Moreover, you can train a horse much more easily, riding with only the ball of the foot in the stirrup, for you can use your legs to better advantage. My disability obliges me to ride "home" at all times, and I have always found it much more difficult to teach a horse the right leg indications than the left. I have to employ my whip not infrequently, in lieu of my leg. Your stirrup should be larger and heavier, for safety. I don't like your fine, small stirrups; and your saddle should have spring bars, which you should always keep from rusting out of good working order. They have saved many a man's collar-bone.

Be in the habit of using your knees and thighs alone for grip, though the closer you clasp the saddle without getting your legs around the horse, the better. In the leap, or with a plunging horse, you may use the upper part of the calf, or as much more as your spurs will allow you to use. But of all equestrian horrors the worst is the too common habit of constantly using the calves instead of the knees to clasp the saddle-flaps. To such an extent is this often carried by a tyro (and no man gets beyond this stage who does it), that you can see an angle of daylight between the points where his thigh and calf touch the saddle, showing that his knee, which ought to be his main and constant hold, does not touch the saddle at all. The stirrup-leathers, especially if heavy, as they should be, often hurt the knee, if you are new to the saddle, and perhaps are the main inducement to this execrable habit. But you must either get your knees hardened, or else give up the saddle. Keep a steady lookout for this. You will never ride if you don't use your knees. If you do use them properly, your feet will look after themselves. Ride with the flat of the thigh and the knee-bone at all times close to the saddle.

Sit erect, but avoid rigidity. It is good practice to sit close, that is, without rising, on a slow jog-trot. Let us try. Sit perfectly straight and take the bumping. On a jog-trot, it is an unpardonable sin to lean forward at all. You will find that shortly it does not bump you so much, and by and by it will not at all. But don't lean back either. That is the country bumpkin's prerogative. Nelly is evidently easy enough, only she has not been taught to curb her ambition. Nothing shakes a man into the saddle better than this same jog-trot. Nothing is more absurd than the attempt to rise when the horse is only jogging, or, as it were, the attempt to make your horse begin to trot by beginning to rise. It looks like an attempt to lift yourself up by your boot straps. Teach him some other indication to start a trot. It is useless to rise unless a horse is going at least a six-mile gait.

Some School-riders taboo the jog, but all the cavalry of the world use it; it is the homeward gait of the tired hunter, and it does teach a man a good, easy, safe seat. It is true that a horse who won't walk at speed, but who falls from a slow walk into a jog whenever you urge him, is a nuisance. Moreover, the uneducated jog is neither a fashionable nor a desirable gait. But a schooled jog, which the horse does under your direction and control, is quite another thing, and a jog greatly relieves a tired horse. It seems to be unjustly tabooed. Unless, then, you are ultra-fashionable, make a habit of jogging now and then. By this I mean jogging with your horse "collected," so that you have not an ounce of hold on his mouth, and he is still under your absolute control, your seat meanwhile being firm and unshaken. But never let the horse jog of his own motion. That may spoil his walk. Make him jog only when you want him to do so, and when walking, do not let him fall into a jog unbidden. The jog I mean should be almost a parade gait; too slow to rise to, but still perfect in action, and so poised that from it your horse can bound into any faster gait at word.

Your hands are too high. They want to be but a couple of inches above the pommel, better lower than higher. A man whose reins wear out the pigskin on his pommel is all right. A horse who carries his head high needs lower hands. Some low-headed horses require the hands to be held a bit higher to stimulate the forehand.

It is difficult to say thus much without saying a great deal more; for this is but a hint of what is essential to correct such a physical defect as a low-carried head. But what I tell you will whet your appetite for a thorough knowledge, and this you will find in the books of Baucher's followers. The use of snaffle and curb, each for its best purpose, is very delicate.

Let me again repeat, of all things never hang on your horse's mouth. You may have to do so on Penelope's, or rather Penelope may hang on your hands, till you get her suppled, but you must try to do that soon. You don't want to be a "three legged rider." If you cannot learn to ride at any gait and speed smoothly and well, with your reins so loose that you might as well not have them in your hands, you will never do anything but "ride the bridle."

This applies to your seat, not to Penelope. It is not wise habitually to ride with reins too loose; you should always feel your horse's mouth. But you can feel it without a tight rein. Good driving horses often pull. A good riding horse should never do so.