John Flanagan - The Ruins of Gorlan

Finally, the saddle was firmly in position. Will looked eagerly at Halt. "Can I ride him now?" he asked.

The Ranger stroked his uneven beard thoughtfully before he answered. "If you feel that's a good idea, go ahead," he said, finally.

Will hesitated for a moment. The phrase stirred a vague memory with him. But then eagerness overcame caution and he put one foot in the stirrup and swung himself nimbly onto the pony's back. Tug stood, unmoving.

"Get up!" Will said, drumming his heels against the pony's side.

For a moment, nothing happened. Then Will felt a small tremor of movement go through the pony's body.

Suddenly, Tug arched his muscular little back and shot straight into the air, all four feet leaving the ground at the same time. He twisted violently to one side, came down on his front legs and kicked his rear legs high into the sky. Will sailed neatly over the pony's ears, turned a complete somersault in the air and crashed on his back in the dirt. He picked himself up, rubbing his back.

Tug stood nearby, ears up, watching him intently.

Now, why did you go and do a silly thing like that? The eyes seemed to say.

Old Bob leaned against the fence, sides heaving with laughter. Will looked at Halt.

"What did I do wrong?" he asked. Halt ducked under the fence rails and walked across to where Tug stood watching the two of them expectantly. He handed the bridle back to Will, then laid one hand on his shoulder.

"Nothing, if this were an ordinary horse," he said. "But Tug has been trained as a Ranger horse-"

"What's the difference?" Will interrupted angrily, and Halt held his hand up for silence.

"The difference is, each Ranger horse has to be asked before a rider mounts him for the first time," said Halt. "They're trained that way so that they can never be stolen."

Will scratched his head. "I've never heard of such a thing!" he said.

Old Bob smiled as he walked forward. "Not too many folk have," he said. "That's why Ranger horses never get stolen."

"Well," said Will, "what do you say to a Ranger horse before you mount him?"

Halt shrugged. "It varies from horse to horse. Each one responds to a different request." He gestured toward the larger horse. "My horse, for example, responds to the words permettez moi ."

" Permettez moi? " Will echoed. "What sort of words are they?"

"They're Gallic. They mean, 'Will you allow me?' His parents came from Gallica, you see," Halt explained. Then he turned to Old Bob. "What are the words for Tug here, Bob?"

Bob screwed up his eyes, pretending that he couldn't remember. Then his face cleared.

"Oh, yes, I recall!" he said. "This 'un here, he needs to be asked, 'Do you mind?' afore you get on his back."

"Do you mind?" Will repeated, and Bob shook his head. "Don't say it to me, youngster! Say it in the horse's ear!"

Feeling a little silly, and not at all sure that the others weren't having a joke at his expense, Will stepped forward and said softly in Tug's ear:

"Do you mind?"

Tug whinnied softly. Will looked doubtfully at the two men, and Bob nodded encouragement.

"Go on! Climb on now! Young Tug won't harm 'ee now"

Very carefully, Will swung himself onto the pony's shaggy back once again. His back still ached from the previous attempt. He sat there a moment. Nothing happened. Then, he tapped his heels gently into Tug's ribs.

"Come on, boy," he said softly.

Tug's ears twitched up and he stepped forward at an easy walk.

Still cautious, Will let him walk around the paddock once or twice, then tapped again with his heels. Tug broke into a gentle trot. Will moved easily to the rhythm of the horse's movement and Halt looked on approvingly. The boy was an instinctive rider.

The Ranger unclipped the short length of rope that held the paddock gate closed and swung the wide gate open.

"Take him out, Will," he called, "and see what he can really do!"

Obediently, Will turned the pony toward the gate and, as they passed through into the open ground beyond, tapped once more with his heels. He felt the muscular little body beneath him bunch momentarily, then Tug broke into a fast gallop.

The wind rushed past Will's ears as he leaned forward over the pony's neck, encouraging him to even greater speed. Tug's ears pricked upward in response and he went even faster than before.

He was like the wind. His short legs were a blur of motion as he carried the boy at full speed toward the edge of the trees. Gently, not sure how the pony would react, Will applied pressure to the lefthand rein.

Instantly, Tug veered to the left, racing away from the trees at an angle. Will kept the gentle pressure on the rein until Tug was headed once again back toward the paddock. Will gasped in amazement as he saw how far they had come. Halt and Old Bob were tiny figures in the distance now. But they grew rapidly larger as Tug flew over the rough grass toward them.

A fallen log loomed in front of them and, before Will could make any effort to avoid it, Tug had gathered himself, steadied and leaped over the obstacle. Will let out a shout of excitement and the pony whinnied briefly in reply.

They were almost back to the paddock now and Will pulled gently on both reins. Instantly, Tug slowed to a canter, then a trot, finally coming down to walking pace as Will maintained the pressure on the reins. He brought the pony to a standstill beside Halt. Tug tossed his shaggy head and whinnied again. Will leaned forward and patted the pony on the neck.

"He's terrific!" he said breathlessly. "He's as fast as the wind!"

Halt nodded gravely. "Perhaps not quite as fast as the wind," he said, "but he can certainly cover ground." He turned to the old man. "You've done well with him, Bob."

Old Bob ducked his head in appreciation and leaned forward to pat the shaggy little pony in his turn. He had spent his life breeding, training and preparing the Ranger Corps' horses and this one ranked among the best he'd seen.

"He'll keep that pace all day," he said fondly. "Run them fat battlehorses into the ground, this 'un will. Youngster rides him well, too, Ranger, don't 'e?"

Halt stroked his beard. "Not too badly," he said. Bob was scandalized.

"Not too badly? You're a hard man, Ranger! Youngster sat him light as a feather through that jump!" The old man looked up at Will, sitting astride the pony, and nodded in appreciation. "'E don't saw away at them reins like some do, neither. Got a light touch with a horse's soft mouth, 'e 'as."

Will grinned at the old horse trainer's praise. He sneaked a quick look at Halt, but the Ranger was as grave-faced as ever.

He never smiles, Will thought to himself. He went to dismount, then stopped himself hurriedly.

"Is there anything I should say to him before I get off?"

Bob laughed aloud. "No, youngster. Once said and young Tug here will remember-as long as it's you who's riding him." Relieved, Will climbed down. He stood beside the pony and Tug shoved him affectionately with his head. Will glanced at the apple barrel.

"Could I give him another?" he asked.

Halt nodded. "Just one more," he said. "But don't go making a habit of it. He'll be too fat to run if you feed him all the time." Tug snorted loudly. Apparently he and Halt were at odds over how many apples a pony should have in a day.

Will spent the rest of the day getting tips on riding technique from Old Bob, and learning how to look after and repair Tug's saddle and harness, as well as the finer points of caring for the little horse.

He brushed and curried the shaggy coat until it shone and Tug seemed to appreciate his efforts. Finally, worn-out, his arms aching with the effort, he had slumped to a seat on a hay bale. Which, of course, had to be the exact moment when Halt walked into the stable.