The Black Stallion by Walter Farley

chicken house. Then he stopped and turned around. He'd better wait, for Tom would be needing him.
    For many minutes he stood there. Suddenly his eyes narrowed and he looked with new interest at what was going on in the pasture. Tom held the halter in both hands now; he had moved even closer to the colt. He was going to put on the halter!
    Uncle Wilmer waited for what he knew must happen. The colt would pull back, rear and twist away from Tom before the boy could buckle the strap about his head. Uncle Wilmer moved from the doorway, ready to go to Tom's assistance.
    Tom had the colt's nose through the nose band; he was going to place the strap behind the pricked ears. Uncle Wilmer knew the boy would have trouble now, so he moved quickly toward the pasture fence. But he came to an abrupt stop, his eyes widening.
    The strap was not buckled yet, but the colt stood quietly. The boy held the halter strap over the small head. He used his other hand to lift the buckle to the strap. The colt snorted as Tom fastened the buckle, but the boy stroked the furry neck. The halter was on and there had been no fight, no resistance by the colt.
    Tom tested the halter with his hand. The nose band was loose, so there would be no recurrence of what had happened before. And the head strap, while not tight, was snug enough to prevent the colt from getting it over his head.
    Tom rose from his kneeling position, and saw his uncle standing by the fence. The man's face was puzzled and Tom smiled as he walked toward him.
    "Y'did it," Uncle Wilmer said when the boy reached him. "An' I didn't think you could."
    "He knew it wouldn't hurt him," Tom said eagerly. "He just wants to know what you expect of him, that's all… that and to know you wouldn't do anything to hurt him." Tom had reached for the lead rope hanging on the fence, and was holding it in his hands when he finished talking.
    "You ain't goin' to try leading him yet, are you?" Uncle Wilmer asked.
    Tom moved toward the colt. "No," he said, "I won't try try leading him—not yet. He'll be leading me now."
    The colt was beside the Queen, but moved away from her when he saw Tom approaching.
    Tom waited for the colt to come to him, then ran his hands behind the small ears, finding spots he knew the colt enjoyed having rubbed. But at the same time he clipped the lead rope to the ring of the halter.
    It was some time before the colt decided to return to his mother and moved away from Tom. But the boy walked with him, the rope swinging between them.
    The colt's walk changed into a trot, but the rope remained loose, for Tom's pace too had quickened. Reaching the Queen, the colt walked around her, still followed by Tom. The colt encircled his mother several times, eying curiously the rope stretched between him and the boy. Finally he stopped, standing close beside the Queen, and Tom waited, talking to him.
    After a while, the colt moved away from the Queen again and Tom followed, still holding the lead rope. There were sudden spurts of speed as the colt trotted about, but always Tom managed to stay near enough so the rope never became taut. He didn't want to control the colt's movements now, for Jimmy Creech had written, "When you first try to lead him, let him go his own way, if he has a mind to. Don't fight him, just go along with him, until before long you'll find that you're guiding him and he's going along with you. You got to have patience."
    Tom thought of Jimmy's words over and over again while he followed the colt to the left and to the right, back to the mare and away from her. Fortunately the colt neither ran his fastest nor strayed too far away from the Queen, and Tom was able to stay with him. Jimmy Creech was right when he said, "You got to have patience," but he should have said too, "You got to be fast." And Tom was thankful he was wearing his light sneakers.
    The colt had returned to the mare to nurse when Tom first became conscious of the darkening sky. It was time to take them in from the