The coachman’s name was John Manly. The next morning he fitted my bridle and saddle with great care and rode me out across the common. We had a wonderful gallop. As we came back through the park, we met the squire and Mrs Gordon.
“Well, John, how does he go?” asked the squire.
“Very well, sir,” said John. “He is as fast as a deer, but the lightest touch of the rein will guide him. We met a cart hung all over with baskets, and he just took a good look and went on. Then a gun went off close by. He stopped for a moment and looked, but he did not move a step to the right or left. I think nobody frightened him or treated him badly when he was young.”
The next day the master rode me himself, and I tried to do exactly what he wanted. When we came home, the mistress was at the door.
“Well, my dear,” she said, “how do you like him?”
“He is exactly what John said. What shall we call him?”
“Would you like Ebony? He is as black as ebony.”
“No, not Ebony.”
“He really is quite a beauty, and he has such a sweet, good-tempered face. What do you say to calling him Black Beauty?”
“Black Beauty — why, yes, I think that is a very good name.” And so it was.
In the stable, John told James about my name.
“If it didn’t bring back sad memories,” said James, “I would have called him Rob Roy. I never saw two horses more alike.”
“That’s no wonder,” said John. “Didn’t you know that Farmer Grey’s old Duchess was the mother of them both?”
I had never heard that before. So poor Rob Roy, who was killed at the hunt, was my brother! Now I understood why my mother was so troubled.
John was very proud of me. He talked to me a great deal and seemed to know just how a horse feels, and I grew very fond of him. James Howard, the young groom, was just as gentle in his own way.
A few days later I went out in the carriage with Ginger. Apart from laying her ears back when I was led up to her, she behaved very well. She did her work honestly, and when we came to a hill, she threw her weight into the collar and pulled straight up. John never had to use the whip with either of us. After a few times out together, we became good friends.
Merrylegs and I soon became great friends too. The master had two other horses in another stable: Justice, a calm, strong cob, and Sir Oliver, an old brown hunter who was past work but was a great favourite with the master.