KIDDING A PULLER 



four races straight off the reel. He was considered an 

 awful sulker and sluggard. As a matter of simple fact 

 he was nothing of the kind. He got his bad reputation 

 because the boys made the mistake of trying to keep 

 him up to his work by riding him too hard. I found 

 out that it was necessary to fool him. He would not 

 be bullied. He became angry directly anyone on his 

 back started— as they generally did— by kicking and 

 pulling at him and whipping him too. My way with 

 him was, just at the start, to behave as if I were trying 

 to control him. I would tug at his bridle a bit and 

 then I would relax. That made him think I had given 

 it up— the struggle I mean— and he would strike out 

 for all he was worth under the impression that he'd 

 conquered me. He nearly always won when ridden 

 that way because he did his hest— on his own account. 

 One day at Liverpool there was a bad mix-up and 

 two horses came down. Now from what I have seen 

 I am quite sure that nine times out of ten when a 

 horse falls it is the fault of the rider. When a jockey 

 gets in a scramble or a tight place he is apt to pull his 

 horse's head about from sheer fright until the animal 

 loses control of his action. Then if he strikes into 

 another horse down he goes. But if he is allowed to 

 fight out his own battles he is most apt to win out. 

 Talking about falls too, and a horse's instinct, only in few 

 cases have I known a thoroughbred step on a jockey 

 who had fallen in a race. If a boy will lie quite still 

 when he is thrown the chances are that he will escape 

 without a scratch from a horse's hoofs. I found this 

 out once when riding in a field of seventeen at Nash- 

 ville. I fell and nearly all the horses actually went 

 over me and not one of them ever touched me. 



Wliile I am writing of my attempts to get horses to 

 take to me I may as well tell of the only one that 



53 



