TOD SLOAN 



taught me the art of rubbing a horse's legs, and gener- 

 ally " doing " him ; but how tired I got ! I don't 

 think that ever in my life I really knew what weariness 

 spelt until then. I would hunch myself in a corner 

 with every limb aching. I suppose I got a few muscles 

 to work which had never been asked to come forward 

 and do their bit before. Then they told me that I 

 should have a little bit of exercise jobs, " riding work," 

 as they say in England. It was at Kansas City, 

 and, my ! how cold it was. I felt frozen, for recol- 

 lect that I was only thirteen and weighed four stone. 



" Up you get on Biddy Bowling and let her walk 

 round the track," someone said, showing me a horse 

 rather like the grey that had given me such a 

 fright. Biddy took a peek at me, and I often 

 wondered what she was thinking of when " Shrimp " 

 Sloan was on her back. At all events she must 

 have thought there was an insect worrying her. 

 She made two or three little Wild West movements, 

 and after I had picked myself up and rubbed the 

 bruises I walked back to the stable. She got there 

 long before I did ! 



I still hated the whole business, but, as I had gotten 

 into it, I didn't care to slouch off. In any case, to my 

 reasoning little mind, it seemed better than being jerked 

 out of a balloon, for sometimes when I'd eaten too 

 much supper I would dream that I was dropping down 

 from the sky with the parachute just out of clutching 

 distance. 



I had a chance to go into the stable of Colonel 

 Charlie Johnson, who owned a horse named Jim 

 Douglas. My first ride in public was on this horse, 

 at Pueblo Colorado. All I had to do was to walk 

 around the ring. Now, Jim stood well over seventeen 

 hands, and was a pretty mean horse, I can tell you. 



i8 



