Black Beauty Page #3

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Right this way. Leaving in five minutes.

Goodbye, John. Bless you.

Please God, we may see you

back again soon.

Portsmouth train leaving

from platform one.

We love you, Merrylegs.

You're the best.

We'll never forget you.

Time to go, sisters.

I want to thank you, John,

for your faithful service to my family.

We shall never forget you, sir.

Goodbye, my Beauty.

Nevermore were we to see our family.

Nevermore.

It was our last time together

in the big pasture...

...but it was something nobody could

ever take away from us.

They were dancing!

The vicar came to take Merrylegs away.

He'd promised the squire

he would never sell him.

I hated saying goodbye

to that plucky little pony.

In no time, Ginger and Joe and I...

...also found ourselves miles away

from everything dear and familiar.

Horses to the back!

What do you think you're doing?

I swear to you...

...someday, somehow...

...I'll be with you again.

Take me with you now.

Don't go.

But he was gone.

Lady Wexmire, Lord Wexmire...

...Lord George.

They stared.

Staring at us with their critical eyes.

To them, we were no more alive...

...than the bits of harness on our backs.

Look at the long legs

on the chestnut mare.

What a hunter she'd make.

She'd fly over the jumps.

You must put these horses' heads higher.

They're not accustomed

to the bearing rein.

Their groom said they'd never used

the rein on either one.

- Didn't he, York?

- He did, my lord.

Be safer to bring them up by degrees.

Pish-posh!

These animals are not fit to be seen.

One notch tighter won't kill them, will it?

York?

As you wish, my lady.

Reuben, attend to the mare.

When a bearing rein is tightened,

it pulls back your head...

...so that you have to carry it

uncomfortably high.

People think it makes a horse look fancy.

But it made Ginger angry.

This was a very grand place we'd come to.

Three or four times the size

of Birtwick Park...

...but not at all pleasant...

...if a horse may have an opinion.

Ordinarily, we would have

put our heads down and forward...

...but not now.

Now we had to pull with our heads up.

Pain shot through our backs and legs.

For what?

For fashion.

Rein them tighter, York.

As you wish, my lady.

Reuben, shorten the bearing rein

on the mare.

A bearing rein is well named.

For it is unbearable.

It makes no sense.

And nonsense can drive a horse mad.

Rein them tighter, York!

As you wish, my lady.

I didn't know how much longer

Ginger could stand it.

For pity's sake.

Are you never going to get their heads up?

Raise them at once!

As you wish, my lady.

Quickly!

And then it happened.

You incompetent fool!

Whoa, there!

Keep a hold of her!

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