Читать книгу Snowball the Pony - Enid blyton - Страница 3

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A tiny pony stood by his mother in the corner of a field. He was so small that he wasn’t much bigger than a big dog.

He had no name yet. The farmer he belonged to meant to sell him, so he hadn’t bothered to give him a name.

He was black all over, as black as soot, and he had a nice long tail that he could whisk about, and bright eyes that noticed everything. His coat was like black satin, and his nose was as soft as velvet.

He was beautiful, and every child who saw him loved him and wanted him, but he was a wild little thing and wouldn’t go near any boy or girl who called to him.

He loved his mother, and she loved him. She often rubbed him softly with her nose, and he stood close to her to feel her warm, soft body. They lived in a big field together, and often liked to gallop round it.

“Have you lived here a long time, Mother?” said the little pony one day. “All your life long?”

“Not all my life long,” said his mother. “Most of it. I came here when I was very, very small, as small as you. I was given to the little boy, and I was his pony. He rode me for a long time, but now he is almost grown-up.”

“Who will ride me?” said the little pony, looking at his mother with big bright eyes.

“I don’t know,” said his mother. “There are no children here. The farmer may sell you, and you may go far, far away.”

“I don’t want to,” said the little pony, and he pressed closely against his mother. “I want to stay with you in this lovely sunny field always and always.”

“You won’t be able to do that,” said his mother. “It wouldn’t be good for you. You must learn many things; you must go out into the big world; you must have a master; and you must grow up into a fine pony, loyal and obedient.”

“I don’t want to,” said the tiny pony, in alarm. “I should be afraid to leave you. Don’t let me go away, Mother!”

“Well, you won’t go yet,” said his mother. “You are too small. Now let’s go for a canter round the field and see if we can find where the grass grows long and juicy in the ditch.”

So they cantered off together, the little pony keeping close to his mother’s side. They found the grass and nibbled it in delight. It was much nicer than the short grass in the field.

The farmer came to look at the tiny black pony a few days afterwards. His wife was with him.

“How lovely he is!” she cried. “He looks like a toy pony! I wish we could keep him.”

“No, we must sell him,” said the farmer. “He will bring joy to some child, who will ride him and love him. What a dear little fellow he is! I shall sell him next summer, but I will choose someone kind for him. He shall not go to any spoilt child who might whip him or kick him.”

“There! Did you hear that? You will soon be sold,” said the pony’s mother. “I shall miss you. But it will be nice for you to have your own home and a little master to love. The best thing in the world is to love and be loved, little pony, so be kind to everyone and make as many friends as you can.”

The little pony grew well in the next few months. How his black coat shone! There was nothing white about him at all except for a few hairs in his tail, and nobody ever noticed those.

“I expect you will be called Sooty or Blackie or Nigger,” said his mother. “You are so very black.”

Soon the time came for him to be sold. He was to go the very next day. He was sad and kept close to his mother.

“Now don’t worry,” she said to him. “You will be quite all right. Always obey your master; always be kind; and take great care of any children who ride you.”

“Shan’t I ever see you again?” said the little pony, sadly. “I shall miss you so much.”

“Well, you are not going very far away,” said his mother. “You are going to the children who live on the next farm to ours. So, perhaps some day you will be able to come over and see me. Maybe the children will ride you over here.”

“Oh, that will be lovely,” said the little pony. He began to feel excited. He was going out into the big world. How big was it? He didn’t know, because he had never been out of the field-gate. He thought the world might be as far as the hills he could see.

The next day the farmer came, and, after giving the pony some oats, slipped a halter on to lead him away. He nuzzled against his mother for the last time and she rubbed him gently with her nose.

“Be good; be kind; do as you are told,” she said. “Then you will be happy. Good-bye, little pony.”

“Good-bye,” said the pony, and trotted out of the gate very sadly. It swung to and closed with a click. Now, for the first time, he was on the other side of the gate. The lane stretched out before him, looking very long.

The world seemed very big and very strange.

“Come along,” said the farmer. “We are going to your new home.”

And off they went, the little pony looking round him with big, astonished eyes.