At this time, I stood in the stable (a building where horses live). My coat was brushed every day until it was very bright. It was early in May when a man from Squire Gordon’s came to get me. My master said, “Goodbye, Darkie. Be a good horse and always do your best.” I could not speak, so I put my nose into his hand. My master patted me kindly and I left my first home.
Squire Gordon’s home was near the village of Birtwick. I went through a large iron gate and trotted on a smooth road. There were many large old trees. Then I saw the house and the gardens. Behind the house were the stables. There was a lot of space for many horses and carriages (vehicles with wheels that horses pull).
My stable was very large and had a big window. The window made the room pleasant and airy. My space was called a loose box (a large room in a stable where a horse can move around freely). I was not tied up. I could move anywhere I liked inside the box. It is a very good thing for a horse to have a loose box.
A groom (a person who takes care of horses) put me into this fine box. The box was clean and sweet. The walls were not too high. I could see the other horses over the iron rails. The groom gave me some nice oats. He patted me and spoke kindly. Then he went away.
I looked at the horse in the next stall. He was a little fat gray pony (a type of small horse). He had a thick mane and a pretty head. I put my head up to the iron rails. I asked the pony his name.
The pony turned his head. “My name is Merrylegs,” he said. “I am very handsome. I carry the young ladies on my back. Sometimes I pull the mistress in a small chair. They like me very much. Are you going to live in the box next to me?”
I told Merrylegs that I was. “I hope you are good-tempered,” Merrylegs said. “I do not like horses that bite.”
Then a tall horse looked over from the next stall. This was a mare (a female horse) with a long, handsome neck. She looked angry. “You turned me out of my box,” the mare said to me. “It is strange for a young horse to take my home.”
“I am sorry,” I said. “I did not choose this. The man put me here. I am four years old and I am a grown-up horse. I want to live in peace.” The mare said she did not want to talk to a young horse. I said nothing more.
In the afternoon, Merrylegs told me about the mare. Her name was Ginger. She had a bad habit of biting and snapping. When Ginger lived in the loose box, she snapped at everyone. One day she bit a man named James.
The young girls were afraid to come into the stable because of Ginger. They used to bring Merrylegs apples and carrots. After Ginger moved, the girls stopped coming. Merrylegs missed the girls very much. He hoped they would come back now.
I told Merrylegs that I never bit anything except grass and corn. Merrylegs said that Ginger was not happy. She said that no one was ever kind to her. Merrylegs thought Ginger was treated very badly before she came to Birtwick Park.
“Our master is very kind,” Merrylegs said. “John and James are also very good. I am twelve years old and I know many things. This is the best place for a horse. It is Ginger's fault that she lost the loose box.”