“Give her a lot of practice at home. Tie poles across all your gateways and lead her over them as you bring her in and out of the field,” advised David as he tried to help Rupert to put up the rails.
Netti swept briskly through the slip rails and was followed by Hanif, approaching at a cautious trot, feet out of his stirrups and whoaing loudly. Jupiter made an enormous leap over the tiny rail, almost landing on Hanif, but then he refused to stand to be remounted.
“Stand, stand,” intoned Hanif, hopping desperately in pursuit of his twirling pony.
“Clear the course,” said David. “Over this way and I’ll tell you what to do.” He waved his good arm at Paul, awaiting his turn with growing impatience. Banjo was expert at slip rails. He nipped over neatly, turning as he landed so that his rider could stay beside the fence. Paul replaced the pole and vaulted on almost in one movement, then they raced away.
“That’s the best so far,” called David and, turning to Hanif, he went on, “Look, I know it’s correct to face the tail when mounting, but sometimes, with a difficult pony, you do better to face the head. Give it a try, only don’t stick your toe into him. You’re not tall enough to get your toe right under the girth so turn it out, the whole foot along his shoulder. That’s right. Now at least you’re looking where you’re going. Shorten the inside rein and let him turn round and round you for a bit. With luck he’ll get bored, and at least you don’t have to hop so far now that you’re the centre of a very small circle. Well done!” he broke off to shout at Lynne, and then turned back to Hanif. “Keep the inside rein short, keep on saying ‘Stand’, and as soon as he does stand make a big fuss of him. This is one of those battles you’ve got to win.”
“Supposing I don’t?” asked Hanif, hopping desperately.
“You will.” David turned his attention to Sarah and Tina. “How are you two getting on? Let’s see you both over the poles a couple of times.”
Sarah led the way. She had woken Vulcan up, shaken him out of some of his rather ponderous stateliness. Tina followed on a happy-looking Bowie, who was going smoothly, ears pricked.
“Good, now over the bank and through the slip rails,” shouted David.
“He gave in, he stood,” announced Hanif, with relief rather than triumph, and David, watching the two girls over the bank, also seemed relieved when the second pony landed safely.
“Great, we’re all beginning to get somewhere then,” he said. “Will you hang on and let me through the slip rails when those two have done with them?”
That was quite a test, thought Hanif, when Jupiter gave in and stood, much sooner this time. He knew he couldn’t have done it last holidays. Mounting, he patted the sweaty liver-chestnut neck and cantered after the Land Rover and the other ponies towards the stickheap jump.
“I like him far better than beastly Bowie,” Sarah was telling David, “He’s like a bigger Chess.”
“I think Bowie’s lovely,” argued Tina, saddened by Sarah’s rejection. “He’s so slim and light and when he jumps you don’t notice take-offs and landings, it’s like sailing about on a feather.”
“Different ponies suit different people,” said David. “It’s a great mistake to hang on to one you don’t really like, because he’d probably be much happier with someone else, too. There’s our hunting gate.” He pointed along the edge of the wood. “And Mr Roberts has taken a stretch of the fence down here. You ride into the wood, come out through the gate and then jump our new fence into the quarry.”
“Quarry?”
“Where?”
The pony club members looked round suspiciously. “Hidden in that clump of trees.” David pointed further along the field. “It’s only a small one. But, first of all, do you know how to open gates correctly?”
“Depends whether they open towards you or away from you,” observed Paul.
“Not entirely. Either way, you need whip and reins in the hand that’s not doing the opening and you approach from the hinge end if possible, keeping up your impulsion. If you overshoot the latch and have to start reining back you’re bound to lose time. Try to hold on to the gate as you go through, turn the pony with your legs, ride forward again and shut it.”
“But quite often in hunter trials if you slam them hard enough they shut by themselves,” objected Seb.
“If you find you’ve got an easy gate in the competition, fine,” agreed David, “but it’s no good schooling the pony on the assumption that the gate will be easy. If he gets in the habit of racing on, he’s not going to like it when you meet an awkward one that swings open rather than shut; he won’t want to wait while you fiddle about, and you’ll find yourself in trouble. Anyway, you must check that it’s shut and stays shut, or you risk elimination from the whole competition.”
Rupert shuddered. “Think of doing all that shooting, running and swimming, half killing yourself, and then getting eliminated at the gate.”
David drove on towards the quarry, and the pony club members, all anxious to see the new fence, were soon cantering ahead.
“It’s a bit steep,” complained James, halting on the edge of the quarry and looking doubtfully at the fence which had been built halfway down the slope. “It’s as steep as the hillside, and the jump’s much higher than the one we practised over last holidays.”
“Ugh! And it’s solid,” added Alice.
“Very solid,” agreed Rupert, looking gloomily at the pole, so stout it was almost a log, which was lashed along the tops of three dwarf posts by a thick cord attached to large staples. “That’s not going to fall down or bust when Rosie gets right under it and forgets how to take off.”
“And there are two more of them,” Lizzie pointed out.
“Oh, they’re no problem,” Seb told her. “This one’s the killer.”
The other riders kept their thoughts to themselves as they viewed the fence in apprehensive silence.
“I suppose you take it very slowly,” said Lesley, as David limped over from the Land Rover.
“Not too slowly or you’ll run out of steam and refuse number three,” he answered. “You must maintain impulsion.”
“Can you lean back?” asked Seb.
“You can, but I wouldn’t advise it. In a steeplechase, with plenty of room between the fences, you can afford to lean back and let the reins slip—there’s time to pick them up and balance the horse for the next jump. But if you lean back here, you’ll almost certainly run out. These little fences are designed to need a bit more riding than anything we jumped last holidays,” he went on, looking round at the gloomy faces. “But the ponies are going a lot better and you’re all far more in charge. We’ve passed the creeping and popping stage of the very green horse, and now we’re asking for impulsion, balance and obedience.”
“But shall we get it?” asked Rupert, shaking his head gravely. “And supposing Rosie forgets to take off?”
“I was coming to that,” said David, settling himself on his shooting stick. “Have we discussed how you indicate to a cross-country horse that he’s to stand back, or take off close to, a fence?”
“No.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Not these holidays, anyway.”
“Well, imagine that you are going to jump a gate or other straight fence. You all know that you want to take off at least the height of the jump away, and up to the height-and-a-half away if your pony has a lot of scope. You want him to ‘stand back’, and to indicate this to him you approach with a ‘holding’ rein. You come to the fence at a steady pace, using your legs and keeping a constant contact with the pony’s mouth. Now, supposing that you’re approaching a triple, or a hedge with a large ditch on the landing side, you want to take off nearer the jump—with a triple only the height of the nearest pole away. You tell the pony this by riding with a ‘giving rein’. This doesn’t mean that you drop your hands suddenly or throw the reins away, but that during the approach your hands follow rather than hold. If you check or half-halt it must be a long way back and not
during the approach.”
David looked round at the members’ faces and knew that his explanation had been too long, and most of them had stopped listening. “Now apply all that to these three little fences,” he said briskly. “You want to stand back for the downhill one. So sit up, look up and ride with a holding rein. The middle one is easy; just look at it, keep the pony straight, use your legs. For the uphill one you need impulsion and you mustn’t stand back, so ride with a giving rein.”
“People do lean back, really good riders do; I’ve watched them at horse trials,” observed Sarah in, an argumentative voice.
“Yes, they do,” David agreed. “Sometimes they get away with it and sometimes they don’t, but there’s no point in copying even good riders’ mistakes.”
“Do you really think Rosie will survive the first one?” asked Rupert gloomily.
“Yes, if you sit up and help her. The riders have got to work, those who leave everything to the pony, look down, or rest their hands and weight on the pony’s neck will come to grief,” David answered. “All right, James? Start from here, into the wood, back through the gate and then the quarry. Harry, you go second, then Alice. Seb, Netti and Lizzie, you’ll be the next three.”
The waiting riders stationed themselves at the edge of the trees from where they could see the gate and down into the quarry.
Alice, rather ashamed at her own feeling of apprehension, wondered if James minded being the trail-blazer, the brave one, always going first. “Have you jumped one before?” she asked Seb.
He shook his head.
“It’s much worse than the quarry at the Area Cup competition,” complained Lizzie. “There the jump was at the very top of the slope, so you just had to pop over slowly.”
“Yes, the take-off of this one is very scary,” agreed Tina. “I can see Bowie missing the right moment and skidding down into the pole.”
“Precisely. And then Rosie will muddle up her legs and collapse on her nose,” observed Rupert gloomily.
“I’m not worried,” giggled Lynne. “I know that Berry’s not going to do it, whatever David says; she’ll just run out.”
“He’s through the gate, the next one can start,” called David, as James appeared looking calm and business-like. He steadied Ferdie and they started down the slope at a collected canter. Brown ears pricked, the pony gathered himself carefully and jumped neatly, then they were both looking at the next fence, and in a moment they were over that and pushing on for the uphill fence on the far side. As they cleared it the watchers cheered.
“A copybook performance,” shouted David, looking pleased.
“That was very cool,” remarked Seb admiringly.
Alice started for the gate feeling much more confident. She was almost sure now that Saffy would also be capable of jumping the quarry.
“Steady, Jupe, steady.” Hanif, sounding slightly apprehensive, appeared at a brisk canter. He half-halted on the brink, Jupiter looked down and, sizing up the new fence in a split second, swept confidently on, clearing it and then the other two with obvious zest.
David laughed. “Old Lionheart really enjoys his cross-country,” he said and turned to watch Alice.
Alice was trying to warn Saffron that care was needed. “Sit down, a holding rein,” she reminded herself. The dun pony stood back, jumped willingly and then cantered on to take the other two in a very matter-of-fact manner.
The watchers’ spirits rose. They had all thought James might get over, but seeing Harry and Alice jump the horror fence so effortlessly had taken away most of its terror.
Jigsaw approached the fence cautiously, but Seb, on his mettle now that no one else had refused, gave an encouraging shout of, “Come on, boy,” and used his legs, and the skewbald jumped and then cantered on more confidently towards the next two. Tristram, who followed flew over all three jumps as lightly and easily as any of larger ponies. Then Rajah appeared, peering suspiciously and slowing down despite Lizzie’s determined riding.
“Oh, go on, Ra,” she shouted desperately as he began to slide to a halt, and, taking her whip in one hand, she whacked him. Surprised, Rajah took off, and Lizzie, grabbing back her rein, straightened him for the next fence.
“Well done, good timing,” called David. He turned to the watching riders. “Whacking a pony like that on the approach can be a complete disaster, it’s not to be recommended normally, but with a sticky old pony like Rajah, who knows all about jumping but prefers to take a good look, it can work marvels. Provided you get the timing right, of course, and Lizzie did.”
Rupert, who had followed his sisters, was still struggling with the gate. Rosie, wearing her stupidest expression, was either moving in the wrong direction or simply standing stock-still and pretending not to notice that, despite Rupert’s long arms, the gate was just out of his reach.
“Circle her,” shouted David, “Small circle, but get her moving forward again; do a bit of shoulder-in.”
Rupert, re-approaching in the shoulder-in position, managed to reach the latch, but having got through the gate, he had another battle before Rosie would agree to shut it. Then he set off at a rather sprawling canter for the quarry. As soon as Rosie saw the jump she began to brake, then to skid and, with terror in her bulging eyes, she slithered into the fence and almost overbalanced. Rupert sat tight, but several of the waiting riders turned pale.
“Perhaps we could have a groundline,” he suggested cheerfully.
“If you clear the course you may get a lead,” David told him, “Lesley’s on her way.”
But Lesley and Stardust, approaching the fence with a lack of enthusiasm, came to a restrained halt.
“Oh, come on, you jumped downhill last holidays,” protested David. “You’ve got to encourage that little mare, set her alight, throw your heart over. She isn’t a brave pony, so you have to be the courageous one, Lesley.”
They tried again and this time Stardust jumped. To everyone’s amazement Rosie followed, flinging herself over with an enormous untidy leap and then pursuing the chestnut pony over the next two fences while Rupert cheered and waved one arm in triumph.
It was Banjo’s turn next and he made one of his usual, unnecessarily high, stag-like leaps and then, surprised by the long way down, pecked on landing. Paul, who was sitting too far forward and resting his hands, went over the pony’s head. He jumped up quickly and dragged Banjo out of the way as Tina and Bowie approached. The bay pony gave the fence a look of astonishment and stopped dead. Then he began to fuss, sweating and champing, ears back, eyes rolling.
“It’s all right, Bowie.” Tina tried to sound calm as she stroked his neck. “It’s O.K., you’ll do it next time.”
“Clear the course!” shouted David, as Sarah and Vulcan arrived. “Tina, wait. Paul, follow my pony.”
Vulcan cantered steadily down the slope, stood back and jumped the small fence easily, though Sarah was resting her hands and practically lying along his neck.
“Good, but he did it all, Sarah, you didn’t help. Well done, Paul,” he added as the little black followed, taking a small, cautious leap this time.
Then Lynne appeared and Berry cantered in pursuit of Banjo. Racing down the slope passing the first fence, her rider didn’t seem to be making much effort to keep her straight and jumping the second. Despite David’s roars of “Come back!” she chased Banjo over the third.
“Bowie refused then,” said Sarah in a triumphant voice as she rejoined the group of riders at the top of the quarry.
“Yes, and I’m coming to that, it was quite an interesting one.” David was looking round to see if he had their attention. “Have you heard of the ‘refusal of the trained horse’?”
“No.” They shook their heads, the braver riders wishing that he would hurry up as they wanted second turns.
“Well, I’m sure you’ve all seen top-class horses coming into a big fence, getting their stride wrong, and, realizing that they can’t do it, that there’s going to be an almighty crash if they try, and then re
fusing. It’s a last-minute refusal and there’s nothing mulish or obstinate about it—the horses are only too keen to turn round and try again. Full of confidence that they’ve got it right, they fly over at the second attempt. I’m pretty sure our fence took Bowie by surprise and by the time he saw it he knew he would be taking off too late, so he sensibly refused. You were quite right, Tina, to calm him down. Obviously one should never punish a horse for that sort of refusal as, if one forces them to jump at all costs, one could get a very nasty fall. O.K., let’s go. Tina, Lynne and then everyone else; we won’t bother about the gate this time, you can practise them at home.”
Bowie pricked his ears and jumped the fence carefully and competently. Lynne cantered past again, but this time David pretended not to see. Everyone else went clear and even Rosie seemed quite confident.
“Remember, there’s shooting on Tuesday and the rally on Friday,” said David, as they parted in the sunken lane. “If I do have time for an extra cross-country practice next week I’ll tell you on Tuesday. And please train. It’s essential that you all do plenty of running and swimming.”
“And shooting,” added Seb as David drove away. “I mean to be a crack shot by Tuesday.”
“Can’t we all come and practise?” pleaded Netti. “We could borrow the pony club pistols and give David and Mrs Blazeaway a terrific surprise as we score bull after bull on Tuesday.”
“There has to be an adult there,” Lesley reminded them, “and I’m sure my mother won’t want to come. She’s already complaining about the time she has to give to the pony club.”
“But Seb’s parents will be there, so that’s O.K.,” said Rupert .
“No they won’t,” Seb sounded savage. “I told you they had split up!”
“Sorry, sorry.” Rupert looked suitably remorseful; everyone else was silent and embarrassed.
“Well, I suppose my father’ll be around,” Seb admitted after a pause.
Pony Club Challenge (Woodbury Pony Club Book 2) Page 9