“I’ll saw if someone will show me how,” offered Alice.
“Don’t you know?” they asked, shocked.
“No, it’s not the sort of thing you learn in a modem flat in big cities abroad.”
“Well, I’ll need some diggers at the next fence—that’s the ditch,” said Mr Roberts. “David went round on his own yesterday evening and made us a plan.”
“I’ll saw,” offered Hanif. “I do woodwork at school, so I can show Alice.”
“Well, don’t cut yourselves.”
“There’s nothing to it,” said Hanif as the Land Rover went on up the hill, “you just saw. I have to do woodwork because my stepfather disapproves of people who are only good at normal lessons. He says I’ll turn into a swot.”
“Well I suppose it is useful to be able to make things.” Alice chose a thin straggly bough and started work. “I don’t know how to do anything useful. Aunt Margaret says she’ll teach me to cook.”
They sawed. The angles were awkward, the branches scratched them and when the sun came out the day was suddenly hot. They stopped for a rest and took off their anoraks. Then they sawed again until they heard voices and the four Wheelers and Tina appeared, puffing up the hill.
“The bikes are all bust up and we had to walk the whole way,” complained Oliver, collapsing on the short, cowslip-studded turf.
“What are you doing?” asked Netti.
“Sawing,” answered Alice.
“We can see that.”
“We’re making this tree trunk jumpable. It’s part of David’s course,” Hanif told them.
“It’s wide.”
“And jolly solid.”
“Are we going to jump it uphill?”
“I hope so,” answered Hanif. “Are any of you good at sawing? My arms are aching.”
Lizzie and Netti took over.
“You need a chain saw,” said Rupert, collapsing on the grass beside Oliver, “then it would be done in a second.”
“And a bulldozer to dig a ditch, I suppose,” suggested Hanif.
“That’s not a ditch they’re digging,” said Rupert with conviction. “It’s a communal grave for pony club members who expire from too much exercise.”
“I think I’ll go and see if they need help,” decided Tina. “It’s no use having seven people for two saws.”
Oliver followed her. Alice was looking at the view, over Garland Farm and Four Cross to Woodbury and the river. And, beyond the river, to the beechwoods, coloured purple by the millions of unopened buds. “We’re on top of the world,” she said to Hanif.
“Not bad is it,” he answered, turning to look as he threaded the sawn-off branches among the ones they had been told to leave at either end. “I wish I could fix Jupe up with a hang glider and we could both drift gently home.”
“Here, you two take over again,” demanded Netti. “My arms are completely worn out. Are yours, Lizzie?”
When the sawing was done they all walked on slowly to the ditch. Paul and Sarah, Tina and James were all digging or shovelling energetically.
“Not very impressive,” said Rupert, looking at it critically. “I expected it to be several feet deep, but you’ve only managed a few inches.”
“See if you can do any better,” answered James, handing him a fork.
“It’s all stones and very hard work,” Sarah told him.
“And anyway, it’s meant to be shallow, only six inches deep, because it’s introducing the ponies to ditches,” Paul added defensively. “David said he didn’t want them all falling in and frightening themselves into fits.”
“Quite right,” said Hanif, taking Sarah’s spade. “We don’t want the riders falling in either—but why are we piling the earth on the far side like this?”
“Some idea of Dad’s,” answered Paul. “And he’s coming back to rivet the ditch when he’s finished knocking posts in over there.”
Assisted by Oliver and Lesley, Mr Roberts had taken down a section of the wire fence between the two fields and was knocking in four posts to make a frame. “We’re going to fill this up with brushwood and greenery,” he explained.
“So while I’m nailing these lengths of timber across, some of you can go collecting branches in the wood. No yew or we’ll be losing the cattle. It only takes the smallest bit of yew to kill an animal, and dead yew’s even more lethal than when it’s green. But you’ll find plenty of box and laurel.”
The Wheelers, Lynne and Tina all decided that they wanted to branch collect, and set off armed with the saws and some secateurs. Alice joined the digging party. James and Paul were taking the ditch very seriously and insisting on straight edges, and Mr Roberts was pleased when he arrived with Lesley, both of them carrying tools.
“Fine,” he said. “Just the job. I’m going to put this pole along the take-off side and fix it there with a couple of short posts knocked into the ditch. Otherwise, if the ponies start refusing and messing about, the edge will crumble away and you won’t have a take-off. Now, we want something for the far side so they know it’s a jump. By rights it should be a brush fence, but I spotted a fallen tree in the little copse over there, just a small one, and it’s been lying there a good while so it won’t be heavy. Will you go and see if you can fetch it over, while Lesley and I get on with this?”
James didn’t think much of the log. “Far too small,” he complained. “Ferdie will trip over it.”
“It would do under a pole,” suggested Alice.
“Help heave,” said James. “It weighs a ton.”
Mr Roberts was delighted with the log, and when it was embedded in the bank of earth they had dug out, it look quite impressive.
“It’s terrifying,” said Hanif, standing back to inspect the fence. “You can’t tell that it’s not a real ditch; I’m sure they’ll all refuse.”
“It does look awfully wide,” agreed Alice, joining him. “I think they’ll all fall in.”
“Right, back to the little copse,” said Mr Roberts, producing his plan.
As they climbed through the wire fence, the greenery collecting party appeared on the edge of the wood, dragging branches and shrieking cheerfully.
“Three poles and baling string,” said Mr Roberts, observing that his helpers had all begun to wish themselves in the wood. “David’s marked the trees we’re to tie the poles to with an X in chalk.”
They found the marked trees. The first two pairs made an angle jump, the third pair were on the very edge of the coppice, and as the hill fell away steeply at that point, you seemed to be jumping right out into space.
“Ugh, it’s horrible,” said Alice.
“Do you think David would notice if we moved it back a bit?” asked Hanif.
“Yes, of course he would. Don’t be so wet. Your pony’s a first class jumper, but you never stop moaning,” James told him irritably.
“It’s called Horizon Fence on the plan,” said Paul. “How high, Dad?”
“About two feet six. Tie the baling string round the tree at about three foot and then make a loop for the pole,” instructed Mr Roberts.
“I don’t suppose we’ll ever get this far,” Alice comforted Hanif when James wasn’t listening. “I can’t see many of us getting over the ditch.”
They walked back to the Land Rover. The wood party were filling the frame with branches and giving cries of horror at the height of the jump.
“That’s great,” James told them. “Don’t squash it down too much, we want one decent-sized fence.”
“Well, none of us are going to get over that,” said Rupert, squashing hard.
“Squash it down to start with,” suggested Sarah. “We can always make it higher later.”
“At least it’s on the flat,” observed Hanif.
“Now, down to the gate in the corner there,” said Mr Roberts, pointing to the far end of the field where a five-barred gate led to the sunken lane. “Anyone want to ride down?”
James, Rupert and Lesley made for the Land Rover. Everyone else
began to run down the hill, pretending to be nervous riders on badly behaved, runaway ponies. Only Alice proceeded at a collected pace, roaring, “Legs!” and “Look up!” in a David-like manner. Lynne jumped the pole on the drums and then fell, lying in a giggling heap, until Hanif announced that it was tetanus and he was about to inject her, when she made an instant recovery.
The Land Rover party were behaving much more soberly. Mr Roberts and James were tying a pole across the gateway while Rupert, who had insisted on a turn with the mallet, was narrowly missing Lesley with every blow he took at a reluctant post.
“I suppose it’s a bounce fence,” he said gloomily, “but with the second pole on the edge of a drop into the lane, Rosie’s bound to fall on her nose.”
“Look what you’re doing!” Lesley shrieked at him angrily. “You only just missed my hand that time. Oh, Mr Roberts, do come and knock this one in. Rupert’s quite hopeless.”
Mr Roberts knocked in the two posts with a few effortless strokes. “Right, you can tie the second pole on. Two feet high, David says.”
“There’s not enough room to land on the bank,” objected Rupert.
“It is a bit tricky,” James admitted. “Not much room for manoeuvre if you’ve got a big one like Ferdie; the little ponies will be all right.”
“We seem to have lost the rest of our gang,” said Mr Roberts as the four of them climbed back into the Land Rover.
“They’re over by the water trough,” Lesley told him. “I can hear my sister’s voice. I expect they’re tired of working and are just fooling around.”
But when they drove into the schooling field they found great activity going on; everyone seemed to be dragging logs and boughs and tree trunks from the hedges and woods.
“We’re building a stick heap,” shouted Oliver to Rupert.
“A logpile,” Netti corrected him.
“We thought we’d show some initiative and give a David surprise,” explained Hanif. “Please will you add it to the plan, Mr Roberts? We’re building it between the water and the tree trunk.”
“I’ll wait till I’ve seen the final result,” answered Mr Roberts unenthusiastically. “We could do with a couple more helpers down here. Paul, come and give me a hand with this sheet,” he called. “And we need another digger.”
Lizzie came running and offered to be the fourth digger.
“It’s easier here than on top of the hill,” James told her. “Far less stones.”
“It’s been churned to mud by the cattle coming to drink,” said Lesley. “If you’ll loosen, Lizzie, I’ll shovel.”
They scraped and shovelled energetically. Ten feet by five, Mr Roberts had ordered, and with the earth piled at either end, but as there was a natural dip in the field, they didn’t have to dig very deep. Mr Roberts and Paul shook out the plastic sheet, folded it to a suitable size, and they all fitted into the hollow. They wound the spare ends round two heavy poles to hold it on the landing and take-off sides and weighed it down with earth at either end. Then they grabbed buckets and began to fling water in it from the trough, wondering if it would hold. It seemed to take an incredible number of bucketsful to even cover the sheet. Mr Roberts left them to it and went to inspect the log jump. Alice and Netti were trying to build the untidy heap into an orderly-looking jump with the largest logs at the bottom.
“Not bad, is it?” asked Alice.
“Not bad? It’s brilliant,” Nettie told her.
“I’ll knock in a couple of posts and put a pole across to make it solid,” said Mr Roberts, “otherwise the ponies’ll start dragging their legs through it, and you’ll spend half the morning building it up.”
They helped Mr Roberts with the posts and pole, but everyone else had lost interest in the log pile and drifted down to the water.
“It’s horrible. Chess simply won’t go near it, I know he won’t,” wailed Sarah.
“Well, at least you won’t shoot into it head first,” said Hanif. “I’m convinced that will be my fate.”
“And mine,” agreed Rupert. “I can just see Rosie coming to one of her shuddering halts.”
“I hope the sheet’s watertight,” said Paul. “It’s going to be a bit of a disaster if it all drains away in the night.”
“I think it would be quite a good idea to start with it empty,” said Lizzie. “Less wet for falling into and we could fill it up later.”
6
Fainthearts and Lionhearts
“I decided that I’d rather help David than ride in the rally,” Oliver explained to the other pony club members when they met at the water on Wednesday morning.
“It’s lost about three inches in the night,” said James, intent on the jump. “If you wouldn’t mind holding Ferdie for a couple of minutes, Alice, I’ll fill it up.”
“I can’t stand that Janet Green,” Oliver went on. “She must be the most boring instructor that ever existed. You spend at least half the rally touching your toes. And she only gives about two for turnout.”
“That’s generous,” Netti told him, “considering Hobbit’s always caked in mud and you never clean your tack or your boots.”
“Julia always gives me at least five,” replied Oliver haughtily. “Anyway, it means that Tina can have Hobbit and I’ll find out whether he can jump ditches and water.”
“We’re all going to find that out. The moment of truth is here,” said Hanif gloomily. “I’ve brought some dry clothes.”
As the Land Rover bumped into the field, they saw that Mrs Rooke, looking severe and wearing a brown macintosh and matching hat, despite the sunshine, was sitting beside David. Several people remembered that Sarah and Lesley were there just in time to choke back their groans.
“Good morning, all,” said David, coming to a halt beside the water. “That looks very wet. I expect we shall have a mighty splash or two this afternoon.”
“Chess won’t go near it. I’ve tried to lead him up, but he won’t move a step. I’m never going to get over.” Sarah sounded indignant.
“Perhaps Sarah could have Lesley’s pony for the water,” suggested Mrs Rooke. “It’s rather hard on her to have a pony with a real phobia about black plastic, and Lesley doesn’t really care about jumping.”
“Well, let’s deal with the problems as we come to them,” said David. “We’ll begin by schooling.”
The schooling went well that morning. The ponies were becoming more supple and energetic and the riders, feeling the improvement, felt they were getting somewhere and cheerfully tried harder still. Rosie was allowed to join in the leg-yielding for the first time and seemed to understand it immediately. Rupert said that she had been watching the other ponies, but David insisted that it was Rupert who had been watching and was therefore able to explain clearly what he wanted.
They cantered a lot. David told them to make the school bigger by going wide, outside the markers, and then to increase their speed along the long sides and slow up on the short ones. He was soon shouting, “Go on, gallop!” as they hurtled along the long sides and, “Steady!” at some people who were failing to slow up for the short ones. The ponies enjoyed it tremendously; the fast ones enjoyed showing off their speed and the slow ones were enlivened by the company. When the time came to halt they all pulled up with pricked ears and shining eyes.
“Very good,” said David. “Do you all begin to see that it’s a lively but controllable pony we’re trying to produce by our schooling? We don’t want a meek, dreary animal creeping round, and we don’t want a sullen animal that’s been mastered by force. Obedience must be something that the pony agrees to willingly and cheerfully; there must be nothing slavish about it.”
He turned back towards the Land Rover. “Right then, off you go along the valley. The people who want to jump the slip rails at full height go first. The Land Rover party will lower them for the rest of you.”
James set off steadily, followed by Hanif, Alice, Netti and Paul. The Rookes and Lizzie dithered.
“Wait till we’ve put it down
and then jump at the high end,” David told them as he watched the first five ponies fly over.
Oliver managed to make the lowered rails a little higher by adding a broken rail as a cross pole and all the ponies jumped confidently.
“Twice round the easy way at the canter,” said David, when everyone had arrived in the second field, “and either half-halt or trot before the downhill jump. Keep your distances and if anything goes wrong ahead of you, stop.”
They set off, a long string of riders all enjoying themselves; it had become so easy and the ponies had become partners instead of opponents.
David had struggled up on to the Land Rover bonnet and was sitting beside Oliver, loudhailer in hand. Mrs Rooke stood a little apart, watching in amazement.
“I can’t get over it,” she said as pony after pony popped over the downhill jump and halted beside the flag. “What have you done to them, David? I know Sarah, James and Netti were quite good little riders, but the rest of them! I can’t imagine how you’ve done it, I really can’t.”
“It shows there was nothing wrong with them. They were quite willing to work at it when they had someone to tell them what to do.” David picked up the loudhailer to roar “Legs!” at Lynne. “I must say I’m quite pleased with them.”
“I should think so,” said Mrs Rooke. “They all look as though they’d been riding cross-country for years and even that dreadful pony the Wheelers bought for Rupert is going in the right direction for a change.”
“Round the harder way, once,” David told James as the last pony halted at the flag. “And Lizzie, do remember to look up.”
“I never thought you’d teach that mutton-fisted little Harry Franklin to ride; when I saw him that first morning at the rally my heart failed, but look at him now!” said Mrs Rooke, her magnified eyes full of admiration.
“Well done,” David told the pony club members as Tina, who had been the last one to go, joined the group. “You’ve all got good cross-country seats and you all know how to jump downhill. And I’m pleased with the ponies too; the idle ones are going with a lot more impulsion, the wild ones have calmed down, and they’re all on the bit most of the time. They also seem quite a lot fitter than when we started.”
Pony Club Cup (Woodbury Pony Club Book 1) Page 10