“Yes, I know, you mean Eddi, Wilfred’s priest:
‘The Saxons were keeping Christmas
And the night was stormy as well
And no one came to the service
When Eddi rang the bell.’”
“Yes, that’s it and then the oxen and the donkey came in and Eddi said, ‘I must go on with the service for such as care to attend.’ It’s a lovely poem.”
“It’s Kipling,” said Henry, “Do you remember my youthful addiction to If?”
“Yes, I certainly do; you used to drive the members of the Radney Riding Club mad with irritation by quoting it at the most tactless moments.”
Henry grinned. “We had rather fun with the riding club,” he said, “and it was a bit more active than the pony club we’ve got now. A very dim branch. Christo Carstairs is about the only instructor. She did a six month’s course at Porlock last year.”
“What is she like now?” asked Noel and then wished she hadn’t asked. Henry had known Christo much longer than he’d known her and she played tennis brilliantly, which Noel knew she’d never do.
“A trifle more glamorous outwardly,” Henry answered, “but basically very much the same. Uncle George,” he went on, as the major came across to them, “Will you bring your complete Kipling up next time you come? Noel has developed a mental thirst.”
“You two have no time for reading today,” said the major. “It’s going to take all our united intelligences and energies to get this gymkhana organised. I’ll tell your aunt to see if she can find the dam’ thing, but now let’s get these children saddling up. I want you to take your rides for about ten minutes, just get them going and then I’ll run through the activity ride a couple of times and that’ll do.”
“Do we inspect?” asked Noel.
“Yes, we’d better inspect now and that’ll be one less thing this afternoon.”
All the things which had ever gone wrong with the activity ride, and a good many more besides, happened that morning. Marion forgot the scissors and led half the ride into trouble; Mousie flatly refused to join in a four, an eight or a sixteen. Joy ran away, Carola dawdled, Beauty and Smudges had a kicking match, Penelope fell off. The major roared ferociously about distances, legs and brains, but when the ride came, rather apprehensively, to its final halt, he only said in the mildest tones, “We will now do that again—properly.” As most people were expecting an explosion of rage and wrath they were shocked into a state of alertness and at the second attempt all went well except for Mousie, who was still being temperamental.
The major told Martin to take James’s place in the last four, Jonathan to take Martin’s place and James to take Jonathan’s. Mousie was rather tall for the rest of her four, but as the major said, she probably wouldn’t be in it very often.
“This back four’s dangerous; I’m warning you,” Sally told Martin. “They all kick except Pickles and none of them are under control. Star simply hates Mousie, so don’t come too near. Oh, do mind out.”
“Quiet, please,” roared the major, “we will now try again.”
“William won’t have a bit of energy left for the gymkhana,” grumbled Christopher.
This time the ride went well and at the end the major told the members, “Well, if you do it like that this afternoon I won’t grumble.”
“He’s got a hope,” said Jean. “I bet Joy runs away.”
“I’d better have some glue on my saddle,” observed Penelope as she rode towards the horse lines.
“I wish they’d hurry up and tell us the events,” said Christopher. “How can one decide what to enter for? Anyway I bet the whole thing is run so’s to be nice and safe for the hopeless people.”
“That’s everyone but you, I suppose,” said Donald.
“No, it isn’t, but it includes you.”
“Oh, I know that,” answered Donald.
“I’m going to give Sonnet double her usual amount of oats,” said Gay. “She’s tired already; it’s the heat, I suppose.”
“I’ll give Biddy some, too, I think,” said Jean.
“Will anyone lend me some?” asked Margaret. “I’m beginning to get a bit low and now James wants some for Rocket.”
“We will,” answered Nicholas, “we’ve got a hundred-weight and I can’t see us using that much.”
“Now then,” said Jonathan, “don’t you get too damned generous; you’ll be feeding the whole camp in a minute and I don’t want Beauty half-starved.”
“All right,” answered Nicholas. “Just Margaret.”
It was at lunch that Miss Sinclair rose to comment on the tents. She said that it was particularly important that they should look tidy for the parents, and that there had been a relapse in their appearance that morning. “Sweet papers everywhere,” she said, “Please use the litter bins provided and one boy had left his bedding in the most terrible confusion; quite dreadful; I’m afraid I gave him no marks at all.”
The sections looked searchingly at their boys and suddenly Nicholas gave a guilty shriek. “I forgot all about it,” he said, “I didn’t do a thing.”
“Big brother, you’re a dope,” said Jonathan.
Joy said, “We’re sure to be last now.”
“Oh, Nicholas,” said Susan reproachfully. And Sally told him, “You are scatterbrained; Guy never does things like that.”
Nicholas abandoned his pudding, rushed round the table and knelt by Susan in an imploring attitude. “Oh, please, dear Susan, forgive me,” he begged in theatrical accents. “I’ll atone. I’ll clean my tack quite beautifully every day for the rest of the camp. I’ll wait on Merry hand and foot, I’ll grub every mark I can—if only you’ll forgive me.”
Susan began to giggle. “Don’t be silly, Nicholas,” she said. “Get up, the major’s looking.”
“You do forgive me then?” asked Nicholas.
“Well, somebody’s got to be last,” said Susan, “and it’s sure to be either us or the Greens.”
“Nicholas ought to go on the stage,” observed Carola.
Christopher said, “It’s lucky for him he’s not a Blue.”
When the noise over Nicholas had abated, the major rose and said that the schedule was now on the notice board and that it would save time at the gymkhana if people knew their own minds; so would everyone look at it and decide for which events they were going to enter. “The programme for this afternoon,” he went on. “We shall saddle up at 2.45, we expect the parents at three and the activity ride will be at 3.5. After that the gymkhana begins. Until 2.45 you can do what you like to yourself, your tack and your pony. Remember to leave your tents tidy and we should like some help with the jumps and bending poles from a few of the older members.”
Most of the parents were late. They had lingered too long over their Sunday lunches, become immersed in the Sunday papers or absentmindedly dropped off into their Sunday naps. The major waited until three fifteen, by which time quite a number of cars were parked round the ring where the gymkhana was to take place. Then he told the members, who were grumbling about having to stand in line for so long, “Well, we won’t wait any longer. Remember, distances. Good luck. I know you’ll do your best. Susan, lead on and keep your head.”
Except that Susan and Marion became a little confused and did the scissors movement twice, the ride went off very well. Mousie tried to go backwards when she found herself in a four, but Martin was given so much advice on using his legs and whip, by his female companions that he became quite cross and hit Mousie really hard, when upon she behaved beautifully. When the parents had finished clapping and Susan had led the ride away in single file, the camp staff hastily erected the bending poles and Henry called on the megaphone for competitors for the first event, Open Bending Race.
Everyone had decided to bend and soon Henry was trying to organise them into heats of four, but they were all arguing about who should ride against whom and no one wanted to be in the same heat as Christopher.
“Quiet,” roared Henry ferociously, w
hen it became obvious that they were incapable of arranging it among themselves. “The first heat is Poppy, Susan, Marion and Gay.”
The major was acting as starter and Mrs. Holbrook and Brigadier Hemlock-Jones had been bullied into judging.
“Christopher, Judith, Margaret and Donald,” shouted Henry in his most intimidating tones, as Gay and Sonnet galloped out easy winners of the first heat.
“It isn’t fair.”
“Oh, Henry, you mean beast,” grumbled Margaret and Judith as they rode in. Margaret was the only one to give Christopher a race: she kept up with him until they turned for home and then Northwind found William too fast.
“James, Carola, Nicholas and David,” called Henry. “This ought to be a good race,” said the other competitors, turning their ponies so that they could watch, and Noel left off tightening her ride’s girths and joined Henry.
“This gymkhana’s not going to take long,” she said. “No, there’s a lot to be said for a limited entry, except that knowing everyone makes it difficult to decide the heats. To seed, or not to seed, that is the question? I’m all in favour of seeding at public affairs, but at a private do like this I have a feeling one should give the tots their chance.”
“Yes, I think probably you’re right. But I hate the sort of shows where everything is arranged so that the ‘little ones’ win and then they all develop the most enormous swelled heads.”
At first it looked as though David would win, he was two lengths ahead going up the posts, but all three boys rode back at a tremendous pace, Rocket had caught up on the turn and Wonder was gaining at every stride. Riding wildly, David hit the last post and Rocket won.
“Jolly good, jolly good,” shrieked Margaret, and Christopher told the already crestfallen David, “You silly fool, you were winning easily. Just like you to stick your great flat feet out.”
“Bad luck, Nicholas,” said Susan, “Goodness, Wonder went fast.”
“Jean, Jonathan, Lynne, Guy,” shouted Henry. “Come on, Beauty,” called Susan as they lined up. “Come on, Biddy.”
“Lynne…”
“Guy…”
Everyone began to shout for his choice. They were a well-matched heat, but Jean and Biddy managed to win by half a length.
“Last heat,” called Henry. “Joy, Penelope, Sally, Martin.”
Tommy didn’t attempt to bend, he took Joy for a gallop round the ring, Mousie refused to approach the posts, Star, despite some hearty wallops from Sally, declined to go faster than a dawdling walk and Penelope won easily at the trot.
“Gosh I wish I’d been in that heat,” said Guy.
“Same here, it’s a darned shame,” agreed Jonathan.
“Oh, you are awful,” Lynne told them, “wanting to go with the babies.”
“Hey, I like that,” objected Jonathan, “Martin’s a year older than me.”
“Well, Mousie’s dreadfully difficult,” said Lynne.
Another row of posts was erected for the final and then Gay, Christopher, James, Jean and Penelope rode into the ring. It was Sweet William’s and Sonnet’s race: they battled neck and neck the whole way. There was nothing between them as they passed the last post and as they passed the finish no one knew who had won until the judges announced first Christopher, by a nose, second Gay, third James, fourth Jean.
As they rode in for their rosettes, Henry called for competitors for the twelve and under dressing-up race. The nine junior members were all entering and Henry hastily divided them into heats of three. “You gallop up the ring, dismount, dress in the pyjama jacket and muffler you find there; mount, there is someone to hold your pony, and gallop back. You must do up all buttons; anyone coming undressed before passing the finish is disqualified,” he explained.
The first heat, in which Margaret, James and Jean rode, was ridden at a flat-out gallop and won by Margaret, who finished without stirrups or reins, but correctly dressed. In comparison, Lynne, Penelope and Jonathan looked like a funeral procession, they rode at sedate canters and took a very long time to dress, but in the end Jonathan beat Lynne by a length.
Major Holbrooke was very apprehensive over the last heat. He crossed the ring to tell the pony holders not to let go of Martin or Joy until they were in full control and he told the three riders that they would get on much faster if they trotted. However, Joy couldn’t resist giving Tommy her usual kick so she shot off up the ring, failed to stop at her heap of clothes, turned and galloped back into the collecting area, where she collided with Christopher. Mousie refused to approach the heaps of clothes, so Noel had to hold her half-way down the ring, while Martin ran up and dressed. Then, when he returned, Mousie would only snort at him in horror and whirl round Noel, who couldn’t hold her still enough for Martin to mount until Judith came to help.
Meanwhile Sally, proceeding with extreme caution, had finished.
“You’ve got a chance, Jonathan, you’ve got a chance,” Nicholas told his brother as he rode into the ring for the final. “Mind you keep calm.”
As everyone expected, Margaret won by several lengths, Jonathan was second and Sally a bad third.
“Jolly good, Sally,” Guy told her, “You’ve won our first rosette.”
“Good old Beauty,” said Jonathan, tying the blue rosette on Beauty’s bridle.
“That’ll improve the look of the saddle room,” said Nicholas.
“Open Musical Poles,” announced Henry, and the whole camp filed into the ring.
“We’re going to use the car horn,” the major told the members. “When it blows you gallop in and take hold of a post. Does everyone understand? We only want eighteen posts,” he told Merry and Noel. “We’ll take two out at a time. I don’t want to keep the ponies at it too long. It’s very hot and the ground is on the hard side.”
At first it was easy to get a pole for there was always someone in a dream or someone whose pony refused to hurry, but gradually as the less efficient riders were sent out, it became more and more difficult. Poppy, Susan. Marion, Gay, Margaret and Christopher were all experts; they watched the posts with hawk-like eyes, they refused to be crowded or bunched up. They could all turn in a second, gallop in at speed and still halt accurately beside their chosen poles. When they were the only six left in, the major said that now only one pole would be taken out each time and, when the car horn blew it was Margaret who was pole-less. Marion, Poppy and Gay followed her out in turn and Christopher and Susan were left cantering round in opposite directions both intent on the solitary pole. The car horn blew and all the pony club members were shouting “Christopher”, or “Susan”, as they turned and galloped in. Susan reached the pole first, a fraction before Christopher, she stretched out her hand and held it. The Reds were wild with excitement and they were still cheering when the winners rode out with their rosettes. Susan was very pleased; she came out patting Tranquil.
“Wasn’t he wonderful?” she said to Noel. “I didn’t have to do a thing; he understood; he did everything.”
“Awfully good,” agreed Noel, though secretly she felt that gymkhana events were rather beneath the dignity of an Anglo-Arab.
“The next competition,” announced Henry, “is the Open Apple and Bucket.”
Susan, Poppy, Marion and Carola had decided not to enter, they felt that they would rather preserve their hair styles, and Sally, who said that she was hopeless and could never get the apple out even if she practised for hours and hours, refused to enter despite Guy’s attempts to persuade her.
“Sally, if you’re not going in, you wouldn’t like to lend Star to Martin, would you?” suggested Noel. “He’s quite good at it, but I’m sure Mousie will refuse to approach the bucket.”
“Of course he can have her,” answered Sally dismounting at once. “But I’m warning you, Martin, she’s jolly slow.”
“That’s O.K.,” said Martin, “she couldn’t be worse than Mousie. Thanks a lot, Sal.”
“Five in a heat,” Henry told the judges, “and if you like to take the first two you can ha
ve six in the final.” The major was organising the horse holders, “We don’t want any accidents,” he told them. “Don’t let go of the pony until the rider has his stirrups and reins.”
“Guy, Jonathan, Penelope, Joy and Martin,” shouted Henry. The pony club members looked very disreputable for they had taken off their coats, ties and crash caps and were ready to plunge their heads straight into the buckets. Pinning the apple to the bottom of the bucket was the method followed in West Barsetshire; it was considered far better than the more refined, but slower, manoeuvring to the side of the bucket method which was current in East Barsetshire.
As they lined up Jonathan and Guy were encouraging each other with cries of “Up the Blacks”, and they set off at a really fast pace, but with their hands and legs in such unorthodox positions that the major had to avert his eyes. They dismounted at the same moment but Guy captured his apple at the first attempt and Jonathan missed his and had to shake the water from his eyes before he could plunge in again. Meanwhile Martin was mounting and Guy was half-way up the ring. At last Jonathan had his apple and mounting quickly he galloped after Martin, but even with his superior speed, he was too late to catch up with him.
Jean, Nicholas, Judith, Donald and Lynne were a very inefficient heat. Jean won, Lynne was a very bad second and the other three gave up trying to get their apples and returned saying that they had the wrong sort of teeth.
The next heat consisted of James, Margaret, Christopher, David and Gay. They started at a tremendous speed, and galloped up the ring with Fireworks a little in the lead, Sonnet and William neck and neck, Rocket and Northwind just behind. To everyone’s surprise Fireworks stopped at the bucket. David was off and on again in an incredibly short time and then he was galloping down the ring with Margaret close behind him. The others were mounting. None of them stopped at the finish; they thundered out through the other competitors into the open field.
“I couldn’t see a thing,” shrieked Margaret, removing wet red hair from her eyes, and “Oh, bother, now I shall have to plait this mess again, I suppose.”
Pony Club Camp (Noel and Henry Book 5) Page 12