Читать книгу More Adventures on Willow Farm - Enid blyton - Страница 7

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The two new horses settled down well. They put their noses to the muzzles of the big plough horses and seemed to talk to one another.

“I suppose that’s their way of shaking hands,” said Penny, watching them. “I do like the way animals nose one another. I wish we could do that too.”

“Our noses aren’t big enough,” said Benjy. “Besides, we’d always be catching colds from one another if we did that.”

“Animals don’t,” said Penny. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen an animal with a cold, now I come to think of it.”

“Well, I have,” said Benjy. “I’ve seen dogs and cats with colds—and I’ve seen Rascal when he had a tummy-ache too.”

“It’s a good thing horses don’t get the tummy-ache,” said Penny. “They’ve such big tummies, haven’t they?”

Her father overheard what she said and laughed. “Oh, horses do get ill,” he said. “It’s tiresome when they do, though—they’re such big creatures, and kick about so. Thank goodness none of mine have ever been ill.”

It was a funny thing that the farmer said that, because that very night Darling, the biggest horse, was taken ill in her stable.

It was Benjy who found out that Darling was ill. He had rubbed her down with Rory when the three plough horses came in from the field, and had watched them eat their meal.

“Isn’t Darling hungry?” he said to Rory. “She always gobbles, but to-night she is eating twice as fast as the others. Darling, don’t gobble!”

Darling twitched back a big brown ear, but went on gobbling. She really was very hungry indeed, for she had been working hard in the wet fields all day. The boys gave each horse a slap behind and a kind word and went out. They had rubbed down the two new horses too. Patchy and Darky liked the children very much, especially little Penny, who was always talking to them and bringing them titbits.

As usual the family went to bed early, even the grown-ups being in bed and asleep by ten o’clock. Nobody heard the noise from the stables—except Benjy. He suddenly awoke, hearing some unusual sound.

He lay for a little while in his small bedroom, wondering what had awakened him. Then the sound came again—a sound he had never in his life heard before! He couldn’t imagine what it was like.

“What is it?” thought the boy, sitting up in alarm. “It’s somebody—or something—groaning—but who can it be? It’s such a funny deep groan.”

Then he heard another noise—the sound of hooves against wood, and he leapt out of bed.

“I must see what it is,” he thought. He put on a thick coat, took his torch, found his shoes, and slipped out down the stairs. He undid the big front door and ran into the wet yard. The noise of groans was now much more clearly heard. The boy ran to the stables and opened the door. He switched on his torch and saw a sight that shocked him.

The great plough horse, Darling, was lying on the floor of the stable, groaning terribly, and gasping as if for breath. She moved her hooves as she groaned and these struck the wooden partition between her stall and the next. The other horses were standing quietly in their own stalls, puzzled by the sounds that came from Darling.

“Oh, Darling, whatever’s the matter?” cried Benjy. The big horse took no notice of the boy, but lay with her hooves twitching curiously. Benjy sensed at once that the horse was really ill. He tore out of the stable and went to wake his father.

In two minutes the farmer was in the stable, bending over Darling. “She’s got colic,” he said.

“What’s colic?” asked Benjy.

“Just what I said my horses had never had!” said, the farmer, with a groan. “Tummy-ache! And Penny was right when she said it must be dreadful for horses to have that. It is! Very dreadful.”

“Will Darling die?” asked Benjy, in a whisper. It really seemed to him as if the horse was dying under his eyes.

“She will if we don’t save her,” said his father. “Go and get Jim and Bill. Quick now. We’ve got to get Darling on her feet. She’ll die if she lies there. We’ve got to get her up. I can’t do it by myself.”

Very frightened, Benjy sped to the cottages where the two farm-hands lived. It wasn’t long before they were in the stable with the farmer.

“We must get Darling on to her feet,” said the farmer. “Come on, Jim, you get to her head. Bill, slap her on the rump—hard. Go on, hard! I’ll help Jim. Come on now, old girl—up you get!”

But Darling didn’t get up. Instead she began to groan and pant again, and the awful noises made poor Benjy feel quite sick. The three men heaved and hauled, and the great horse made no attempt to help them at all. She felt too ill to stand and she just wasn’t going to stand. The men gave up after a while and stood exhausted by the horse, panting almost as loudly as the great animal.

“Go and telephone the vet, Benjy,” said his father, wiping the perspiration off his forehead. “Tell him Darling has colic and ask him to come as quickly as possible. Good heavens, this horse is worth forty guineas—we can’t afford to lose her!”

“Oh, Daddy, who cares about the forty guineas!” cried Benjy, almost in tears. “If she was only worth a penny, we’d have to save her because we love her!”

“Of course, silly boy,” said his father. “Now go quickly and tell the vet to come. Jim—Bill—let’s try again to get Darling up.”

“She’s that heavy and obstinate,” grunted Jim. He was a tiny fellow, with immensely broad shoulders and long strong arms. He began to try again to get Darling up, helped by the others. The horse seemed to realise what the men were doing this time, and herself tried to rise. She fell back again with a thud and put her great patient head to the ground, groaning deeply.

“Poor creature,” said Bill. “She’s in a bad way, sure enough.”

“I hope the vet comes quickly,” said the farmer, leaning exhausted against the stall. “Ah—here’s Benjy back again. What did the vet say, lad?”

“Oh, Daddy, he’s out to a farm twenty miles the other way,” said Benjy, his eyes full of tears. “So I rang up the other man who came here once—but he’s ill in bed and can’t possibly come. He said we were to keep the horse on her feet and walk her up and down, up and down till we got someone to come and give her what he called a ‘drench’.”

“Get her on her feet!” growled Jim, looking at the poor horse lying flat down, her hooves twitching. “That’s easier said than done. Come on—we must try again. She’s getting worse.”

Bill had an idea that pulling her up with ropes would be a good plan, so the three men between them tried that next—and with a terrifying groan Darling was at last got to her feet. She stood there, swaying as if she was going to fall down the next moment.

“Get her out of the stable and walk her round a bit,” gasped the farmer. “We mustn’t let her get down again. Open the door wide, Benjy.”

Benjy opened it, and the great plough horse staggered out, swaying, her head hanging down in a pathetic manner.

“Daddy, what’s made her like this?” asked Benjy. “It’s awful.”

“She eats too fast,” said his father. “It doesn’t sound anything much, I know, to say she has eaten too fast—but a horse can die of the colic brought on by that. And Darling’s pretty bad. Hold up there, my pretty—hold up. Jim, go to the other side. She’s swaying over.”

It was a terrible business to keep the great horse on her feet. Whenever it seemed as if Darling was going to fall over again, or appeared to want to lie down because she really wasn’t going to stand or walk about any more, the farmer shouted loud words of command at her, and the well-trained horse tried to obey them. Jim and Bill slapped her smartly too, and the poor old horse somehow managed to keep on her feet and stagger round the farmyard, making a great noise with her feet. The sounds awoke everyone in the house, and one by one, Harriet, Fanny, Mother, and the other children came out to see whatever was the matter.

“Go back to bed,” ordered the farmer. “You can none of you do anything. You go too, Benjy.”

“I can’t, Daddy, I can’t,” said Benjy. “I love Darling so much. I can’t go back to bed till I know she won’t die. I can’t.”

“When is that vet coming?” said Jim, who by now was getting very tired. “You left a message for him, didn’t you, Benjy?”

“Of course,” said Benjy. “But goodness knows when he’d be back and get my message.”

“Horse’ll be dead by that time!” said Bill gloomily. “Whoa there, my lady. Oh—down she goes again!”

With a terrific thud the horse half fell and half lay down. She lay there in the mud of the yard, her hooves kicking feebly by the light of the big lantern.

“And now we’ve got to get her up again,” groaned the farmer. “Benjy, is that you still there? I told you to go to bed. Go on now—you can’t do anything to help, and it’s only making you miserable to watch us.”

“Please, Daddy,” began Benjy. But his father cut him short angrily, for he was tired and worried.

“Do as you’re told—and at once!”

Benjy fled away into the darkness, very unhappy. He went up to his bedroom, thinking of the great horse that he and Rory loved to brush and comb each day. He remembered her soft brown eyes and long eyelashes. She was the dearest horse in the world—and she might not get better if the vet didn’t come quickly and cure her.

No sooner had Benjy got into bed, as cold as ice, than a thought came to him that made him sit up and shiver with excitement. Why, oh why hadn’t he thought of it before? He would go and fetch Tammylan, the wild man. Tammylan knew how to handle all animals—he knew how to cure them—he knew everything about them. Tammylan, oh, Tammylan, you must come and help old Darling!

Benjy put on a coat again, and his rubber boots. He wound a scarf round his head and neck, for the night really was very cold. He took his torch and slipped down the stairs for the second time that night. Then out into the yard and away up the lane as fast as he could!

“I hope I don’t lose the way in the dark,” thought the boy desperately. “Everything looks so different when it’s night-time.”

Tammylan’s cave was about two miles away. Benjy ran panting up to the top of Willow Hill, and then across Christmas Common, which looked strange and queer in the starlight. If only Tammylan was in his cave! If only he would come! Then Darling would be saved and wouldn’t die. Oh, Tammylan, do be in your cave, do be in your cave!