Adventures of the Little Wooden Horse

by Ursula Moray Williams

  “For a horse that can win a Golden Trophy on only one wheel must be of some use to a circus,” he said to himself.

  “Can you stand on your head?” the circus master asked.

  “Oh, yes!” replied the little wooden horse, who thought that to a horse who could find his way out of a mine alone standing on his head was nothing.

  “Can you gallop backwards?” asked the circus master.

  “Why, certainly!” replied the little wooden horse, telling himself that to a horse who had pulled the King’s coach three times round the city galloping backwards was very simple.

  “Can you walk a tightrope?” asked the circus master.

  “Of course!” replied the little wooden horse, who was quite certain by now that he could do anything.

  “Then come this way,” said the circus master.

  Stretched across the roof of the circus tent, high above the ring, was a tightrope, and it was across this rope that the little wooden horse was expected to walk.

  “If you do it well you shall have a silver coin,” the circus master promised him, as he helped him up the platform to the tightrope.

  Then, while the little wooden horse waited, trembling, to begin, the circus master addressed all the people below.

  “Here is the one and only performance of the little wooden horse crossing the tightrope. Keep your places, ladies and gentlemen, please, and watch this miraculous spectacle!”

  Far below the little wooden horse saw his friend the elephant gazing upwards with a wondering expression on his kind face. His heart went pit-a-pat! pit-a-pat! inside his little wooden body as he thought of what he was going to do.

  “Here am I, a quiet little horse who only wants to return home and stay for ever by his master’s side,” he said, “risking my life on a rope far above the heads of everyone in the world, from where at any moment I may be dashed to death!”

  But the circus master was cracking his whip, and he had to start out on his dangerous journey across the rope.

  The little wooden horse trundled slowly forward, and nobody could tell how his heart was beating inside his little wooden body. Even the coins lay still, and his new wooden wheels made no sound.

  Below the people held their breath as he trundled slowly across to the other side, and then there was a burst of applause as silver and copper coins were thrown into the circus ring “for the little wooden horse”.

  The circus master picked them up and gave them to the little wooden horse with a smile. He gave him, too, the silver coin that he had promised him before, and asked him to stay on and work with the circus: he should have another silver coin for every time that he crossed the rope.

  The little wooden horse thought this over very carefully.

  “If I stay I shall certainly have a fortune to take to Uncle Peder,” he said; “and I am quite close to the mine. I will stay here for a few days, and then I will go on and give the miner’s boy back his money, and make my way to the coast and to Uncle Peder.”

  So he stayed with the circus, sleeping with the elephant and walking every day across the tightrope till he could do it with his eyes shut. Every day the people threw him money and the circus master gave him a silver coin, till his little wooden body was almost bursting with riches.

  Now that he had so much money the little wooden horse found that he had to be very careful indeed upon the tightrope, for the weight of his riches upset his balance. He was a happy little wooden horse.

  One evening he had decided it should be his last performance at the circus.

  He really had as much money as he knew what to do with: he and Uncle Peder would live in comfort for ever. He doubted if he could put more than five more coins in the hole in his neck, and his little heart was bursting with happiness at the thought of the wealth he was going to bring Uncle Peder.

  He climbed the ladder for the last time, and set out bravely and carefully across the rope.

  The little wooden horse was halfway across the tightrope, and the people below were holding their breath, when suddenly a clear and well-known little voice called out, “It is! It is! It is my little wooden horse!”

  There, sitting in the circus below, was the miner’s little boy, whom his father had brought to the fair on his birthday for a treat.

  The little wooden horse was so startled he lost his balance. First he swayed to the right side, then to the left, then the weight of his money toppled him over altogether, and he fell into the ring below.

  The elephant reached out his trunk and caught him almost in time, but not quite, for one of his little wooden legs was broken. The miner’s little boy ran into the ring and picked him up, just as the little wooden horse struggled bravely to his feet.

  “Father will mend you! Father will mend you!” said the miner’s boy over and over again.

  Fortunately, having only wooden legs, the little wooden horse was not in pain. He decided to go straight home with the miner’s little boy and his father, so he limped to the circus master and said goodbye, and to the elephant, with whom he was sorry to part, because they had been good friends.

  The circus master paid him double, and asked him to come back to the circus when his leg was healed. “And if you cannot,” he told the little wooden horse, “tell your master to make me another little horse as like you as can be, and I will pay him five shillings for such a splendid one as yourself.”

  Before they set out for home the little wooden horse insisted on giving back to the miner’s boy the silver crowns that he had kept for him, and also the King’s reward of a golden sovereign. Then, because he was too proud to be carried by the miner or his son, he took to the road behind them, and plodded stolidly down the long, dark road towards the mine.

  13

  In the Nursery

  The little wooden horse was so tired he trundled along in a kind of dream. He was almost too sleepy to notice the kind welcome that was given him by the miner’s wife and the baby sister: all he wanted was a corner in which to sleep and rest his broken leg, which had fallen right out of the socket into which Uncle Peder had hammered it so carefully long weeks ago.

  By the morning he felt better, and trundled out of the kitchen before anyone was astir to have a long drink at the trough outside the cottage.

  “How light and lively I feel this morning!” said the little wooden horse, giving a skip on his three legs that would not have disgraced a lamb. “It seems a horse can do very well on three legs after all.”

  But he noticed suddenly that no chink, chink! sounded inside his little wooden body when he jumped into the air.

  “That is funny,” said the little wooden horse, jumping again.

  He felt strangely light and empty, while not the faintest tinkle of a coin was to be heard. The little wooden horse began to get anxious. He shook himself, and jerked himself, and galloped in a ring, and stamped his three legs, and even turned head over heels: he felt as light and as empty as air!

  At last he took off his head and learned the sad truth: there was not a penny left inside his little wooden body!

  The little wooden horse grew quite cold with misery and despair. He tried to think when he had had his money last, and remembered how the coins had clinked when he limped home after the miner’s boy and his father. Then he remembered how sleepy he had felt on the way home, and how he had had a funny dream of getting lighter and lighter and lighter all the way.

  Suddenly he had an idea. He picked up a pebble about the size of a penny and dropped it into the hole in his neck. It was just as he had feared. It fell straight out through the hole where his wooden leg had been. That was what had happened to his money!

  The little wooden horse did not waste a moment, but galloped back up the long road towards the circus. His bright, painted eyes searched everywhere for a glimpse of gold or silver coins, for pennies lying in the dust or shillings in the gutter. He could see nothing.

  Money does not lie long on the highway, and already a great many people had passed on the ro
ad that morning, to market, to the fields, and to the city. Many people had thought themselves lucky, and gone home richer than they set out.

  The little wooden horse found a sovereign at last hidden in the dust under a dock leaf, while some way farther on he discovered a penny. He kept the coins firmly clenched between his little wooden teeth, for he could not trust them again to the treacherous hole in his body.

  “I suppose I am a lucky horse to find even so little of my fortune,” said the little wooden horse. But when he thought of the gold and the silver and the riches that he had been going to take home to Uncle Peder the tears came into his painted eyes, and he sobbed as though his wooden heart would break.

  “I can do two things now,” said the little wooden horse, as he wended his way sadly enough towards the miner’s house. “I can get a new leg, for I have, at any rate, a sovereign to pay for it, and I can go back to the circus and earn some more money, or I can go back across the sea to Uncle Peder, and when he has finished making the wooden horses I shall ask him for the little rich girl, the ten little Princes and Princesses, and the circus master we can maybe starve together.”

  When he had thought all this over the little wooden horse decided not to go back to the circus, for he felt he would never care to walk the tightrope again.

  “I will go back to Uncle Peder,” said he. “And what will happen will happen.”

  When he returned to the miner’s cottage he said no word about his lost fortune, but he told the little boy that the time had come for him to go home to his real master across the sea.

  The miner’s boy was very sad to say goodbye to his friend so soon after finding him again, but the miner said, “When you find your master again, little wooden horse, tell him to make another little horse, as fine and as strong as yourself, and I will pay him five shillings out of my wages for such a one for my son.”

  The miner, his wife, the miner’s boy, and the baby sister all came to the door to see the little wooden horse away on his journey to the sea. He would not even stay for the new leg that the miner promised him – not he!

  “A horse does very well on three legs,” said the little wooden horse.

  But before he had gone fifteen miles or so he found out that after all four legs are better than three.

  “How tired I am!” thought the little wooden horse, quite surprised to find that a fourth leg could be so important.

  When he had trundled twenty miles it became quite clear that he would never reach the coast unless he bought a new leg. His progress became slower and slower, and although his four new wooden wheels spun bravely, his three legs ached so badly they would scarcely hold him up.

  When he came to the next village the little wooden horse looked about for someone to help him, and his eye fell on a kind, white-haired old man standing in the doorway of his own toy shop.

  “Oh, please, sir,” said the little wooden horse, “can you, for a few shillings, make me a new wooden leg?”

  “Why, of course, my dear!” replied the kind old shopkeeper. “You have only to come inside and wait while I find a nice little piece of wood.”

  The little wooden horse was glad enough to go into the shop and rest while the kind old shopkeeper searched about for a stick that would make a good, strong leg.

  “And where have you come from, my dear?” he asked.

  The little wooden horse told his story while the shopkeeper fitted the new leg into the empty socket. The old man was very interested.

  “Now if you ask your master, when you go home, to make me a dozen such strong little horses as yourself,” he said, “I will willingly pay him five shillings each for them, for I know I could sell them here in my shop easier than winking.”

  Sure enough, no sooner had he finished mending the little wooden horse than a gentleman came into the shop.

  He was a tall, good-looking man, but he had such a worried expression upon his face that it made the little wooden horse’s heart ache to look at him. He wandered all round the toy shop while the good old shopkeeper hammered away at the leg of the little wooden horse, picking up toy after toy, only to lay it down again as if he had no use for it at all.

  At last his eye fell on the little wooden horse, whose leg by now was nearly finished.

  “Why, what is that?” he asked suddenly. “Now that is a toy I have never seen before!”

  “Why, it is a toy that has long been out of fashion,” the shopkeeper explained. “I do not think they are made in this country any more. And more is the pity, I say, for when I was a boy not a child would run out on the pavement without his wooden horse.”

  So saying the kind old man gave a final tap to the little wooden horse’s new leg and set him down on the floor.

  “I’ll buy that little wooden horse,” said the gentleman at once. “For there isn’t another toy in your shop that I haven’t bought for my children at some time or another, and they are tired of them all. Nothing will keep them quiet except a new toy, and, so far as I can see, there is simply nothing new to be had.”

  “I am very sorry indeed, sir, but this little wooden horse is not mine to sell,” explained the good old shopkeeper in some distress. But now the little wooden horse himself piped up and told his story, to which the gentleman and the shopkeeper listened with great attention and interest.

  When he had heard of the lost fortune the gentleman said, “Well, look here, my little wooden horse, how would you like to earn some more money before you go home? If you will come back with me for a week and play with my children I will pay you three silver coins, and I can promise that you will be free after that, for my children get tired of all their toys in a few days; so you will be able to go on your travels as before.”

  The little wooden horse was very pleased with the idea of earning three silver coins. But before he left the shop with the gentleman he asked the shopkeeper how much he owed him for his new wooden leg.

  “Not a penny!” said the kind old shopkeeper. “What is a little piece of wood after all? But don’t forget to ask your master to send me a dozen little horses like yourself when you get home, and I will pay him five shillings for every one of them.”

  When he had thanked the old man over and over again the little wooden horse left the shop and trundled down the street behind the gentleman who had bought him for a week.

  Presently they came to a house so full of noise that no one would have believed that all the doors and windows were shut. Children were shouting, crying, screaming, tins were clattering, drums banging, dogs barking.

  The gentleman who had bought the little wooden horse opened the door and went in, with the little wooden horse trundling behind him.

  No sooner were they in the hall than five or six children hurled themselves down the stairs, arriving at the bottom in a shrieking, kicking mass that gradually found its legs and clustered round the father.

  “What have you brought us, Father?” shouted the three little boys and two little girls who had emerged from the tangle.

  “I have brought you a new toy,” said their father gravely. “You must take it up into the nursery and be quiet.”

  The five children fell upon the little wooden horse with shrieks of delight, all trying to pick him up at the same time. The little boys pushed their sisters; the little girls slapped their brothers and trod on their hands as they tumbled on the ground. The little wooden horse was seized by his head, his legs, his wheels, his tail, and each of his four legs in turn. It was fortunate for him that all his joints were sound again, or he would have come to pieces in their hands.

  “How different they are from the ten little Princes and Princesses!” thought the little wooden horse as he was snatched from hand to hand. He remembered how politely the little brothers had looked after their royal sisters, how unselfishly the little Princesses had given in to the Princes.

  Presently the eldest boy, Michael, snatched the little wooden horse out of the hands of his sister Angeline, and with a howl of triumph bounded up the stair
s towards the nursery.

  Angeline, who had just failed to kick his shins, followed him, with Lavender, Roderick, and Benjamin shouting in the rear. Their father escaped to his own room with a sigh of relief and shut the door.

  Michael arrived in the nursery well ahead of his brothers and sisters. He threw the little wooden horse behind the window curtain and swaggered about to wait till they arrived.

  From a chink in the curtains the little wooden horse could look out into the nursery. Only once before had he seen so many toys together. That was in the playhouse belonging to the little girl, away in the forest where he had left Uncle Peder. But those toys had been gay and bright, well looked after, and tidily arranged on their shelves. These were lying higgledy-piggledy all over the room, and all were broken, cracked, or scratched – a pitiful collection!

  The little wooden horse turned his painted eyes away from them in shame, just as the four other children burst into the room.

  “What have you done with Father’s present, Michael?” they all yelled.

  Michael would not tell them, so they all began to fight, and presently the youngest little girl, Lavender, discovered the little wooden horse behind the window curtain, so they fought her for a change. When it was all over the little wooden horse felt as bruised and as battered as when the little old woman had flung him high over her roof and he had landed plump! in her cabbage bed.

  After that they played with him awhile, galloping him round and round the nursery till his four wooden wheels rattled again; and by bedtime he was so dizzy that he did not mind whether he slept on a bed of straw or on the hard floor in the corner of the nursery, where they left him.

  The next day the children found that his head came off, and that there were two coins in his inside. This surprised them very much, but for all their naughtiness they were honest children, so they left the coins alone. Only they filled him up with marbles, which were very heavy and uncomfortable, rattling about in his inside like stones, till for the first time in his life the little wooden horse had a stomach-ache.