Josephine Pullein-Thompson: The Trick Jumpers (paperback)

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“That horrible new house!” said Erica Henderson, looking along the Hogsbottom valley to the stark whiteness of the flat-roofed house which scarred the hillside.

“It’s vandalism,” agreed Desmond Strange in his lazy, good-natured voice. He stopped Monty, the big brown cob his parents had hired for the holidays, and waited for the ponies to catch up.

Peter Henderson and Tessa Strange came down the stony track together, but there was no sign of the Henderson twins.

“Ghastly,” said Peter, shaking his fist at the house. “It looks worse, now that it’s finished.”

Tessa, who was dark-haired, plump, and lazy looking like her brother, said, “I wonder what the Trelawnys themselves are like?”

“Mummy met Mrs. Trelawny in the post office,” Erica told her. “She seemed pretty mad; she was dressed for sailing and she’d forgotten what she wanted to buy.”

“I don’t mind that sort of madness,” said Tessa. “I wonder if the children are nice.”

“Of course not,” answered Peter. “They couldn’t be, living in a dump like that.”

“Mummy says they all look as though they need a square meal and that their names are enough to make them abnormal,” Erica added.

“Benedict, Jasper and Nicolette—they’re not bad names,” said Tessa. “I know them because Daddy’s their doctor, but they haven’t been ill yet.”

“I don’t think names make one abnormal,” argued Desmond. “There are seven boys called Michael in my house at school, but they don’t seem more normal than anyone else.”

“Where have the twins got to?” asked Erica, turning in her saddle and looking back up the track.
“Frankie, Georgie!” she called. There was an answering shout of “Coming!” from the wood.

“I expect they were jumping logs,” said Tessa as the ten-year-old, red-headed Henderson twins, Frances and Georgina, came galloping down the track.

“Steady, twins,” called Erica, “steady. You really mustn’t gallop over flints like that,” she went on, as the twins joined the rest of the party. “If the ponies come down on that track they’ll break their knees.”

“Well, if pure-bred Dartmoor ponies can’t gallop over a few flints, what can?” asked Frankie.

“You couldn’t call it galloping,” argued Georgie. “At least, if it was a gallop, it was the slowest gallop I’ve ever been.”

“It was much too fast,” said Erica in her elder sisterly voice. “If you break their knees they’ll be blemished for life and you won’t be able to ride in the pair class at Windsor.”

“Oh fuss, fuss,” said Frankie, and Georgie added, “You’d never let us out of a trot if you had your way.”

Desmond, who at sixteen was the eldest of the party, soon became bored by the Henderson bickering and rode on down the track. The others hurried after him, between the tall overgrown hedges down to the grass path which led through the valley below. Desmond opened the gate and stood beside it waiting to shut it when everyone was through; but as soon as the twins’ ponies, Hobbledehoy and Chatterbox, felt the grass beneath their feet they were off at a gallop, leaving Monty leaping about in excitement and Desmond cursing.

“Why don’t you teach your little sisters some hunting manners?” he demanded.

“They’re only young,” Erica told him. And Peter added, “Well, at least they’ve got some guts and go.” Desmond slammed the gate shut and set off in pursuit. Monty pounded along in the lead, while Erica kept Queen Bee at a slow hack canter, and, in between, Peter on bay Breezy and Tessa on grey Dolphin cantered side by side. At the clump of trees that hid the little wooden bridge over the Hogsbottom brook, Desmond pulled up.

“Monty’s puffing like a grampus,” he said, “I can’t think when Mr. Maggs last exercised him. Your little dears seem to have vanished, Erica.”

“Oh, now what are they up to?” asked Erica, looking round impatiently.

“There they are, look, right up on the hill.” Tessa pointed at the skyline. “What are they doing?”

“Chasing a pony,” said Peter. “A loose pony. Come on; someone must have fallen off.” He urged Breezy up the hill and the others followed him. The hill was very steep and soon reduced Tessa, on the rather idle Dolphin, to a walk. But the other three cantered on, and, as they came over the brow, they saw the twins proudly leading a skewbald pony. She was about thirteen hands high, very fat, and her saddle had slipped over on one side.

“Well done the twins!” called Erica.

“Who on earth does it belong to?” asked Desmond.

“Those people over there, I suppose,” answered Peter, pointing to two riders on a grey and a black pony cantering across the next field. “They must be Trelawnys—no one else would wear red woolly caps.”

“They’ve seen us,” said Desmond. “They’re coming this way.”

As the riders came nearer, the Hendersons and Stranges could see that one was a tall thin boy and the other a girl with long plaits. They both wore trousers, scarlet ski jackets and woolly caps; they had pale faces and very pale fair hair.

“Benedict and Nicolette,” Tessa whispered to the others.

“Good morning,” said Benedict Trelawny politely. “Thank you very much for catching Dauntless; she swerved and my brother fell off.”

“Yes, thank you very much,” added Nicolette.

“Of course your brother fell off, riding with his girths as loose as that,” Erica told them in her elder sisterly voice.
“He might have had a nasty accident.”

“Well, he didn’t,” Benedict answered. “He just rolled off. Thank you,” he said again as he took the skewbald from Georgie.

“What did you say her name was?” asked Frankie.

“Dauntless,” Benedict answered.

Erica laughed a little scornfully. “She doesn’t look as though she lived up to it,” she said.

Peter looked at Dauntless critically. “No, she’s not much to look at,” he agreed. “She’s got a big head and a straight shoulder and she’s far too fat. In fact,” he went on, speaking severely to Benedict, “if you’re not jolly careful she’ll have laminitis and then ten to one you’ll have to have her put down.”

“Yes, that’s perfectly true,” said Erica. “It’s just as cruel to let a pony get too fat as too thin,” she lectured Benedict, “and laminitis is a terribly painful disease. Even if they recover from it, they’re never really sound again.”

Benedict’s pale face was turning red. “Look,” he said, “we’ve only had them three days. You can’t expect—"”

“Here’s Jasper,” Nicolette interrupted him. The Hendersons and Stranges turned and saw a small thin boy, with the same pale face and hair as his brother and sister, coming towards them. “It looks lovely,” he called as he drew near. “Like knights or cavaliers.” He looked at the Hendersons and Stranges. “What lovely ponies,” he said politely.

“Did you hurt yourself?” asked Tessa.

“No, of course not,” answered Jasper, and went to take Dauntless from Benedict.

“You’d better do something about the saddle first,” said Benedict. He held Dauntless while Jasper tugged at the saddle in an ineffectual attempt to straighten it.

“You won’t do it like that,” said Erica.

“Undo the girths,” advised Tessa. Nicolette dismounted and went to help Jasper.

Peter was eyeing Kubla Khan, Benedict’s black Fell pony, critically. Soon he said, “If you’ve only just bought your ponies it beats me why you didn’t get something bigger. You’re pretty big for yours now. By next year your feet will be on the ground, I should think; you’ll look pretty silly.”

“Yes, and it’s a well-known fact that no one can learn to ride well on a pony too small for him; you need something of fifteen-two,” added Erica. “And goodness, look at your bit!” she exclaimed a moment later. “It’s dangling among your pony’s teeth. You’ll have him with his tongue over his bit before you know where you are, and that’s practically an incurable habit.”

“Too bad,” said Benedict, feigning indifference. He felt that he had been lectured enough. “Are you ready, Jasper?”

“She’s got her girth on back to front,” said Frankie Henderson, pointing at Nicolette.

“Cruel beast,” shrieked Georgie. “She doesn’t care if she gives her pony girth galls.”

“Georgie!” said Erica reprovingly.

“Well, it’s true,” Frankie supported her twin. “I bet their ponies hate them; I bet they’d rather pull heavy carts or be ridden by fat people at the seaside than belong to the Trelawnys.”

“No doubt your ponies adore you despite your bad manners and your appalling conceit,” said Benedict furiously. “Come on,” he added to Jasper and Nicolette; and they turned their ponies and cantered away.

“Look at them, toes down, elbows waving; they’re hopeless riders,” giggled the twins.

“You’re very naughty,” Erica told them. “You shouldn’t say people are cruel beasts.”

“Why not?” asked Frankie. “It’s true.”

“It’ll do them good,” added Georgie.

“They’re even worse than I expected,” said Peter.

“Oh, the little boy, Jasper, didn’t seem at all bad,” protested Tessa.

“Wishy-washy little weakling,” said Frankie, and Georgie added, “I bet he’s the worst of the lot.”

“Are we going to jump the brook or spend the morning discussing the Trelawnys?” asked Desmond. “Because if we’re not going to jump the brook, I’m going home.”

“Oh, yes, the brook,” shrieked the twins, urging their ponies down the hillside, while Erica called, “Steady, twins, steady; you’ll sprain their forelegs.”

Humans
Benedict, Nicolette and Jasper Trelawny
Erica, Peter, Georgina and Frances Henderson
Desmond and Tessa Strange, Martin Freeman

Horses
Kubla Khan, Mercury, Dauntless, Queen Bee, Breezy, Hobbledehoy, Chatterbox, Monty, Dolphin, Socks