Chapter One: The Baby Pony's Birthday
It was a cold and windy
March day on a ranch near the city of Dallas, Texas. A new-born black Shetland
pony was laying on a bed of straw in a barn. This baby pony was very, very
small. The black mother pony was standing close to her baby while the horse
doctor looked him over. “He looks like a midget pony to me,” said the doctor to a tall,
broad-shouldered man, “but we can’t be sure until he’s older,” the doctor
laughed. The pleasant broad-shouldered man was Mr. W. E. Culwell, who owned the
ranch. Two grown boys were with Mr. Culwell. One boy was his son, “Cully,” and
the other was Cully’ friend Jim Carlyle. Mr. Culwell smiled as he reached down
and patted the new colt’s head. He knew a lot about ponies. On his big ranch,
ponies were raised for circuses and riding-schools. But he was especially
anxious about this wee inky-black colt that had just been born. For Mr. Culwell
needed a midget pony to give to Southern Methodist University as a
mascot for their athletic teams.
Southern Methodist University is a large university at Dallas, Texas. Grown boys and girls study there after they leave high school. These students all wanted a “midget” boy pont for their new mascot. This mascot would bring good luck to their fine teams, which are called the “Mustangs.” Mustans are small wild horses that live on the Texas plains. So their mascot had to be a little horse.
Cully Culwell and Jim Carlyle were wishing hard for this new black pony to be a “midget.” For a “midget” pony will always stay very small and cute. And because Cully’s father would be the one who would make this wonderful gift to the university where the two boys studied – the university that everybody called “S.M.U.’” for short. “I’ve got a feeling, Doc,” said Mr. Culwell, “that this little pony will be a midget.”
The two boys cheered with delight. Then Jim said, “Sure hope you’re right about that Mr. Culwell!”
And Cully said “And how!”
The tiny pony whimpered at the noise the boys made. His mother licked her tongue over the small, round white spot on the forehead of his black head. When the doctor rubbed the colt’s skinny body, he squealed and squirmed.
Shorty, the mother pony, looked proudly at the men and boys she knew so well. “Isn’t he the cutest and tiniest pony you’ve ever seen?” her eyes seemed to ask them, even though she didn’t understand a word they said.
After the doctor had finished looking at the colt, Shorty nudged her son gently. The little pony must have guessed what his mother wanted him to do, for he tried to lift himself up. But his weak forelegs buckled, and he dropped back on the straw.
“Look!” cried Cully. “He’s trying again!”
Sure enough! The baby pony made a faint grunting sound. He hoisted himself awkwardly, and swayed backward and forward on his thin, wobbly legs. Then he balanced himself. There he stood! There stood the Baby Pony looking at his proud mother! There he stood nuzzling for a dinner of his mother’s milk!
“Okay, Cully and Jim,” said Mr. Culwell, “you two take over. You two take care of him. And you better start praying that he’ll stay the right size to be your midget mascot.”
The boys cheered again. And they “took over,” and cared for Shorty’s colt. They brushed and curried him every day as he grew stronger. Sometimes he would nip at them, but they were playful nips. It was all just in fun, for the Baby Pony liked Jim and Cully.
The men who cleaned the barn were interested too. They said Shorty’s baby was the smallest pony colt they’d ever seen. But one day one of these stablemen said, “Shucks! Why he’ll get just as big as the other colts when he starts running in the pasture.”
Cully an Jim heard the man say this. But the two boys wouldn’t let themselves think the black colt would ever get big. He just had to stay small, so he could become their University’s mascot! They almost couldn’t wait till they could show him off at the football and basketball games. Think of it! A pony the size of a collie dog!
“By Jiminy, he’s going to be a midget pony!” Cully told Jim.
“Yeah, sure he is!” Jim grinned. “Say, won’t he be grand in a red blanket with his hoofs painted red?”
The two chums could already see their little mascot prancing about the big football stadium where the crowds would be cheering.
“Oh boy, he’ll bring plenty of luck to our teams!” said Cully.
The Baby Pony went on growing stronger and a little bit bigger day by day. He played in the straw of his box stall. He rolled and rolled in it. He learned how to scratch his head with his hind foot, and he learned to talk pony talk to his mother. She told him that pretty soon they would go out in the big paddock where all the other ponies and pony colts went every day to eat grass and play.
On rainy days the other colts and their mothers were kept in their stalls in the barn. They whinnied and stamped their hoofs. The Baby Pony’s ears stood up when he heard all this noise. His hears stood up too when he heard the stable boys whistling.
Shorty went to the door of her stall and looked out. The little pony nudged her with his black nose and wanted to know what was going on “way out there.” But he couldn’t see anything. No, not even when he stood on his hind legs and stretched his tiny body.
Early one morning, Mr. Culwell came into the box stall. Cully and Jim were with him. “Well, well,” said Mr. Culwell brightly, “this little chap is doing alright, isn’t he? You boys have done a fine job taking care of him.”
Yes, the Baby Pony’s wrinkled hide had filled out into a plump little body. His wide brown eyes looked curiously at Mr. Culwell. Then he tossed his head up and down saucily. Shorty neighed her welcome, and stood proudly as the man and boys gazed at her little one.
Mr. Culwell rubbed the Baby Pony’s ears. When he stopped, the colt poked Mr. Culwell with his soft nose. This meant, “please do it some more.” So the man kept rubbing the Baby Pony’s ears. Meanwhile the two boys were holding their breaths. They were waiting to hear what Mr. Culwell would say this time about the Baby Pony’s size.
“He’s going to be a little black beauty,” prompted Cully. “Isn’t he, Dad? Just like his mother! Only littler, maybe – huh?”
“That’s right, son,” Mr. Culwell said, as if he were thinking to himself.
“Say, what do you think now, Mr. Culwell?” asked Jim Carlyle anxiously. For he couldn’t hold it in any longer. “Do you still think this colt’s really going to be a midget?”
Mr. Culwell stopped rubbing the colt’s ears. He smiled as the Baby Pony kept nosing his hand. “Can’t tell yet,” he sighed to the boys. “But we can dream , can’t we, little fellow?” he asked the black colt.
“Gosh,” Jim told shorty’s wee baby, “you’ve just got to be a midget!”
“Yeah you’ve got to,” Cully echoed. “Our midget mascot!”
Southern Methodist University is a large university at Dallas, Texas. Grown boys and girls study there after they leave high school. These students all wanted a “midget” boy pont for their new mascot. This mascot would bring good luck to their fine teams, which are called the “Mustangs.” Mustans are small wild horses that live on the Texas plains. So their mascot had to be a little horse.
Cully Culwell and Jim Carlyle were wishing hard for this new black pony to be a “midget.” For a “midget” pony will always stay very small and cute. And because Cully’s father would be the one who would make this wonderful gift to the university where the two boys studied – the university that everybody called “S.M.U.’” for short. “I’ve got a feeling, Doc,” said Mr. Culwell, “that this little pony will be a midget.”
The two boys cheered with delight. Then Jim said, “Sure hope you’re right about that Mr. Culwell!”
And Cully said “And how!”
The tiny pony whimpered at the noise the boys made. His mother licked her tongue over the small, round white spot on the forehead of his black head. When the doctor rubbed the colt’s skinny body, he squealed and squirmed.
Shorty, the mother pony, looked proudly at the men and boys she knew so well. “Isn’t he the cutest and tiniest pony you’ve ever seen?” her eyes seemed to ask them, even though she didn’t understand a word they said.
After the doctor had finished looking at the colt, Shorty nudged her son gently. The little pony must have guessed what his mother wanted him to do, for he tried to lift himself up. But his weak forelegs buckled, and he dropped back on the straw.
“Look!” cried Cully. “He’s trying again!”
Sure enough! The baby pony made a faint grunting sound. He hoisted himself awkwardly, and swayed backward and forward on his thin, wobbly legs. Then he balanced himself. There he stood! There stood the Baby Pony looking at his proud mother! There he stood nuzzling for a dinner of his mother’s milk!
“Okay, Cully and Jim,” said Mr. Culwell, “you two take over. You two take care of him. And you better start praying that he’ll stay the right size to be your midget mascot.”
The boys cheered again. And they “took over,” and cared for Shorty’s colt. They brushed and curried him every day as he grew stronger. Sometimes he would nip at them, but they were playful nips. It was all just in fun, for the Baby Pony liked Jim and Cully.
The men who cleaned the barn were interested too. They said Shorty’s baby was the smallest pony colt they’d ever seen. But one day one of these stablemen said, “Shucks! Why he’ll get just as big as the other colts when he starts running in the pasture.”
Cully an Jim heard the man say this. But the two boys wouldn’t let themselves think the black colt would ever get big. He just had to stay small, so he could become their University’s mascot! They almost couldn’t wait till they could show him off at the football and basketball games. Think of it! A pony the size of a collie dog!
“By Jiminy, he’s going to be a midget pony!” Cully told Jim.
“Yeah, sure he is!” Jim grinned. “Say, won’t he be grand in a red blanket with his hoofs painted red?”
The two chums could already see their little mascot prancing about the big football stadium where the crowds would be cheering.
“Oh boy, he’ll bring plenty of luck to our teams!” said Cully.
The Baby Pony went on growing stronger and a little bit bigger day by day. He played in the straw of his box stall. He rolled and rolled in it. He learned how to scratch his head with his hind foot, and he learned to talk pony talk to his mother. She told him that pretty soon they would go out in the big paddock where all the other ponies and pony colts went every day to eat grass and play.
On rainy days the other colts and their mothers were kept in their stalls in the barn. They whinnied and stamped their hoofs. The Baby Pony’s ears stood up when he heard all this noise. His hears stood up too when he heard the stable boys whistling.
Shorty went to the door of her stall and looked out. The little pony nudged her with his black nose and wanted to know what was going on “way out there.” But he couldn’t see anything. No, not even when he stood on his hind legs and stretched his tiny body.
Early one morning, Mr. Culwell came into the box stall. Cully and Jim were with him. “Well, well,” said Mr. Culwell brightly, “this little chap is doing alright, isn’t he? You boys have done a fine job taking care of him.”
Yes, the Baby Pony’s wrinkled hide had filled out into a plump little body. His wide brown eyes looked curiously at Mr. Culwell. Then he tossed his head up and down saucily. Shorty neighed her welcome, and stood proudly as the man and boys gazed at her little one.
Mr. Culwell rubbed the Baby Pony’s ears. When he stopped, the colt poked Mr. Culwell with his soft nose. This meant, “please do it some more.” So the man kept rubbing the Baby Pony’s ears. Meanwhile the two boys were holding their breaths. They were waiting to hear what Mr. Culwell would say this time about the Baby Pony’s size.
“He’s going to be a little black beauty,” prompted Cully. “Isn’t he, Dad? Just like his mother! Only littler, maybe – huh?”
“That’s right, son,” Mr. Culwell said, as if he were thinking to himself.
“Say, what do you think now, Mr. Culwell?” asked Jim Carlyle anxiously. For he couldn’t hold it in any longer. “Do you still think this colt’s really going to be a midget?”
Mr. Culwell stopped rubbing the colt’s ears. He smiled as the Baby Pony kept nosing his hand. “Can’t tell yet,” he sighed to the boys. “But we can dream , can’t we, little fellow?” he asked the black colt.
“Gosh,” Jim told shorty’s wee baby, “you’ve just got to be a midget!”
“Yeah you’ve got to,” Cully echoed. “Our midget mascot!”