"First of all we teach them to come up to you, with the whip, like horsebreakers do. Then we run them round the ring with a lunging rein for a long time; then, when they are steady to the ring, we let them run with the rein loose, and the trainer can catch hold of it if they go wrong.
Then we put a roller on them -- a broad surcingle that goes round the horse's body -- and the boys jump on them and canter round, holding on to the roller, or standing up, lying down, and doing tricks till the horse gets used to it."
"Well?"
"Well, you give 'em a couple of hours of it, perhaps, and then dry them and feed them, and give them a spell, and then bring them out again.
They soon get to know what you want; but you can't break in horses on the move. The shifting and worry and noise and excitement put it all out of their heads. We have a fixed camp where we break them in.
And a horse may know his work perfectly well when there is no one about, but bring him into the ring at night, and he is all abroad."
"Do you have to give them much whip?"
"Not much. If a horse doesn't know what you want him to do, it only ruins him to whip him. But once he does a thing a few times, and then won't do it, then you must whip him."
"What about trick horses?"
"A trick horse rolls a barrel, or lies down and goes to bed with the clown, or fires a pistol -- does any trick like that. Some small circuses make the same horses do both trick and ring work, but it isn't a good line.
A horse is all the better to have only one line of business -- same as a man."
"How do you teach them tricks?"
"Oh, it takes a long time and a lot of hard work and great patience.
Even to make a horse lie down when he's ordered takes a couple of months sometimes. To make a horse lie down, you strap up one leg, and then pull his head round; after a while he gets so tired of the strained position that he lies down, after which he learns to do it at command. If you want him to pick up a handkerchief, you put a bit of carrot in it, and after a while they know that you want them to pick it up -- but it takes a long time.
Then a strange hand in the ring will flurry them, and if anything goes wrong, they get all abroad. A good active pony, with a bit of Arab blood in him, is the best for tricks."
"What's a school horse?"
"Ah, that's a line of business that isn't appreciated enough out here.
On the Continent they think a lot of them. A school horse is one that is taught to do passaging, to change his feet at command, to move sideways and backwards; in fact, to drill. Out here no one thinks much of it. But in Germany, where everyone goes through military riding schools, they do. The Germans are the best horse-trainers in the world; and the big German circus-proprietors have men to do all their business for them, while they just attend to the horses."
"How long does it take to turn out a school horse?"
"Well, Chiarini was the best trainer out here, and he used to take two years to get a horse to his satisfaction. For school horses, you must have thoroughbreds, because their appearance is half their success.
We had a New Zealand thoroughbred that had raced, and was turning out a splendid school horse, and he got burnt after costing a year's training.
That's the luck of the game, you know. You keep at it year after year, and sometimes they die, and sometimes they get crippled -- it's all in the luck of the game. You may give fifty pounds for a horse, and find that he can never get over his fear of the elephant, while you give ten pounds for another, and find him a ready-made performer almost."
We passed out through the ghostly circus and the menagerie tent down to the stable tent. There, among a lot of others, a tranquil-looking animal was munching some feed, while in front of him hung a placard, "Tiger Horse".
"That's a new sort! What is he, ring, trick, or school horse?"
"Well, he's a class by himself. I suppose you'd call him a ring horse.
That's the horse that the tiger rides on."
"Did it take him long to learn that?"
"Well, it did not take this horse long; but we tried eleven others before we could get one to stand it. They're just like men, all different.
What one will stand another won't look at. Well, good-bye."
Just like men -- no doubt; most men have to carry tigers of various sorts through life to get a living.
