I was almost two years old when a strange thing happened. It was early in the spring. There was a little frost on the ground and a light mist in the air.
I was eating grass with the other colts. Suddenly, we heard a distant sound. It sounded like the cry of dogs. The oldest colt raised his head and listened.
"There are the hounds (dogs that hunt animals)!" the colt said. He galloped to the top of the field. We all followed him. We looked over the hedge.
My mother and an old horse stood near us. They knew what was happening. "They found a hare," my mother said. "We will see the hunt if they come this way."
Soon, the dogs ran into the next field. They made a very loud noise. They did not bark normally. They made a special hunting cry at the top of their voices.
Many men on horses followed the dogs. Some men wore green coats. They galloped as fast as they could. The old horse looked at them with excitement.
We young colts wanted to gallop with them. However, the men soon moved to the lower fields. Then the dogs stopped barking. They put their noses to the ground.
"They lost the scent (the smell of an animal)," the old horse said. "Perhaps the hare will escape."
"What hare?" I asked.
"I do not know," the old horse replied. "Any hare will do for the dogs and men to chase."
Soon the dogs started their loud cry again. They came back toward our field. They ran toward the high bank and the river.
"Now we will see the hare," my mother said. Just then, a very scared hare ran past us. It tried to reach the trees.
The dogs followed the hare. They jumped over the bank and the stream. They ran across our field. The hunters followed them on their horses.
The hare tried to go through the fence, but it was too thick. She turned back toward the road. It was too late. The dogs caught her. We heard one loud cry.
One hunter rode up and moved the dogs away. He held up the dead hare. It was covered in blood. All the men seemed very happy.
I was very surprised by the hunt. Then I looked at the river. I saw a sad sight. Two horses were down on the ground.
One horse struggled in the water. The other horse lay on the grass. One man climbed out of the water. He was covered in mud. The other man did not move.
"His neck is broken," my mother said.
"It is his own fault," one of the colts said. I thought the same thing, but my mother did not agree.
"No," she said. "You must not say that. I am an old horse and I saw many things. But I do not understand why men like this sport."
"They often hurt themselves," she continued. "They hurt good horses and they ruin the fields. They do all this for one little hare. But we are only horses, so we do not know."
We stood and watched. Many men went to the young man on the ground. Our master was the first person to help him.
The young man’s head fell back and his arms hung down. Everyone looked very serious. Even the dogs were quiet now. They carried the man to our master’s house.
Later, I heard the man was George Gordon. He was the son of a rich squire (a man who owns a lot of land). He was a tall, fine young man.
Men rode in every direction. They went to find a doctor and a farrier (a person who looks after horse’s feet). They also went to tell Squire Gordon about his son.
Mr. Bond, the farrier, looked at the horse on the grass. The horse was groaning in pain. Mr. Bond shook his head. The horse’s leg was broken.
Someone ran to the master’s house and brought a gun. Then there was a loud noise and a short cry. Everything was still. The horse did not move again.
My mother was very sad. She knew that horse for years. His name was Rob Roy. He was a very good horse. She never went to that part of the field again.
A few days later, we heard the church bell. We looked over the gate. We saw a long black carriage. It was pulled by black horses.
More black carriages followed. The bell continued to ring. They were taking George Gordon to the churchyard. They were going to bury him.
George Gordon would never ride again. I never knew what happened to the horse, Rob Roy. All of this happened because of one little hare.