Stuff like gettin’ her to rear and paw the air at them, and sometimes to put her forelegs on their shoulders while they walked in front of her. Then, too, they always had her lookin’ for carrots and sugar in their pockets. She’d pull away at their clothes, and they’d laugh about how she had such a time finding what they had for her.”

Henry stopped because Black Minx had moved to her feedbox and was whiffing her grain; finally she began to eat. “See, Alec,” he said. “You just got to have patience and wait for her. We’ll make her a real good-mannered lady one of these days.”

For several more minutes Henry watched the filly before continuing his story. “Anyway, Alec, the Chandler kids thought all those tricks were pretty funny at first. But when she started growing up and getting stronger the tricks weren’t so funny any more.

“They kept away from her when she started rearing and pawing the air at them. They stopped carrying tidbits in their pockets. Her hoofs and teeth were big and strong, for she was a yearling now, and she could hurt when she played or went after carrots and sugar in their pockets. The kids didn’t want to play any longer but she couldn’t get that into her head. She’d played too long with them to stop all of a sudden.”

Henry gestured at the filly’s hindquarters. “That docked tail, for instance. Let me tell you how she got it.”

Alec’s eyes were on the pitiful little chewed-off tail that was most unlike the filly’s sire’s.

“There’s no doubt that the filly, as a yearling, was hard to handle and very mischievous. But it wasn’t her fault she’d got that way. Whenever the kids entered the paddock in front of her barn she’d run after them, probably thinking of the game of tag they’d taught her. But now the kids were scared and ran, and most often, I guess, they got real angry with her. Anyway, one day she caught one of the boys and nipped him, taking off some of his sweater and some of the skin off his back. As I heard it, he was more mad than hurt. So a few minutes later when he saw the filly going into her stall at the end of the paddock, he ran after her and slammed the door hard to keep her penned up. The heavy door caught her tail, and when the vet came he had to amputate most of it.”

Alec’s face was grim. He said nothing when Henry concluded with, “So that’s the way it’s gone for this little filly. No wonder she bites and paws. But I know I’ll be able to do something about both. It’ll just take time and patience.”

After a while Alec pushed himself away from the stall door. “Did the Chandler kids keep her after the accident to her tail?” he asked.

“They left the picture,” Henry said, “by going to college, and Mrs. Chandler turned the filly over to a trainer to be raced as a two-year-old. But she picked a guy with a big stable, who was never able to give the filly all the time she needed after what she’d gone through. He took her along with his stable to Florida last February and started her in one race.”

“What’s she do?”

“Swerved across the track before she reached the first turn, and went through the rail. It took twenty-nine stitches in her breast to put her back together again.