Chap­ter 13: The Dev­il’s Trade Mark begins dur­ing an errand as John and Black Beau­ty encounter a trou­bling inci­dent that reveals much about char­ac­ter and cru­el­ty. As they pass a qui­et field, a scene of dis­tress catch­es their attention—a boy attempt­ing to force a small pony over a gate. The boy, lat­er rec­og­nized as young Mr. Bush­by, strikes and kicks the fright­ened crea­ture with­out mer­cy. Despite the pony’s clear fear and refusal, the boy con­tin­ues his assault, dri­ven by frus­tra­tion rather than any need. Final­ly, the pony, pan­icked and defi­ant, throws the boy into a near­by hedge, then bolts for home. John watch­es silent­ly, feel­ing a mix of dis­ap­point­ment and sat­is­fac­tion, decid­ing not to inter­vene. His reac­tion is not born from mal­ice, but from a sense that nat­ur­al jus­tice has been served. Some­times, the con­se­quences of cru­el­ty arrive swift­ly, with­out any need for words.

As John and Black Beau­ty near Bushby’s farm, the boy’s par­ents come run­ning, their faces pale with wor­ry. They stop John to ask if he has seen their son, con­cerned by the pony’s sud­den return alone. John, calm and clear, recounts exact­ly what he wit­nessed. He describes the boy’s vio­lent treat­ment of the pony and how the ani­mal, over­whelmed and ter­ri­fied, act­ed out in defense. Mr. Bush­by lis­tens close­ly, and though embar­rassed, he does not attempt to excuse his son’s behav­ior. Instead, he nods grim­ly and promis­es to address the mat­ter. His wife, though dis­tressed, express­es grat­i­tude for John’s hon­esty. The moment is tense, but it car­ries a pow­er­ful under­tone: even among fam­i­lies of stand­ing, cru­el­ty can­not be brushed aside when brought into the light.

John’s con­ver­sa­tion lat­er with James Howard reflects on the deep­er issue—not just the boy’s actions, but what they reveal about his char­ac­ter. They dis­cuss how unchecked arro­gance in youth, when mixed with pow­er over ani­mals or oth­ers weak­er, can grow into some­thing far more dan­ger­ous. James men­tions ear­li­er encoun­ters where the boy act­ed with the same dom­i­neer­ing atti­tude, bul­ly­ing oth­er sta­ble hands and ignor­ing warn­ings. John remarks that such behav­ior is like “the devil’s trade mark”—a sign of deep­er moral fail­ure. The cru­el­ty is not sim­ply a lack of train­ing, but an absence of com­pas­sion, a fail­ure to see liv­ing crea­tures as more than tools for pride or enter­tain­ment. Both men agree that dis­ci­pline from par­ents and firm guid­ance are necessary—not just to pro­tect ani­mals, but to shape a boy into a man with con­science.

The phrase “the devil’s trade mark” echoes as a sym­bol­ic warn­ing through­out the chap­ter. It refers to a pat­tern of behav­ior that, if left unchecked, could define a person’s life. John is not harsh in his judg­ment, but he is firm. He believes in kind­ness, in fair­ness, and in respon­si­bil­i­ty. And when those val­ues are vio­lat­ed, the result is not just harm to an animal—it’s a kind of spir­i­tu­al ero­sion. This moment also ties into the larg­er themes of Black Beau­ty—that how peo­ple treat ani­mals reflects who they are at their core. The pony’s ter­ror, the boy’s dis­re­gard, and John’s refusal to excuse what he saw are all part of a broad­er moral com­pass guid­ing the nar­ra­tive.

This chap­ter serves not only as a reflec­tion on a spe­cif­ic inci­dent but also as a broad­er com­men­tary on empa­thy, jus­tice, and the role of adults in shap­ing younger gen­er­a­tions. Mr. Bushby’s will­ing­ness to take the mat­ter seri­ous­ly offers hope, but it also rein­forces the need for active par­ent­ing and moral instruc­tion. Chil­dren, like ani­mals, need care and guidance—not indul­gence or unchecked pow­er. John’s role is qui­et but firm, remind­ing read­ers that moral­i­ty is taught by exam­ple as much as it is by words. Through steady action, mea­sured response, and unwa­ver­ing stan­dards, those who wit­ness cru­el­ty must not remain silent. The les­son isn’t about pun­ish­ment alone, but about instill­ing a sense of right and wrong that lasts beyond a sin­gle moment.

In essence, “The Devil’s Trade Mark” does more than tell a tale of misbehavior—it uncov­ers how casu­al cru­el­ty can become a habit and how con­science, if ignored, leaves marks as deep as any scar. It cham­pi­ons the qui­et dig­ni­ty of those who stand up for the voice­less and reminds read­ers that even small acts of jus­tice can leave last­ing impres­sions. The chap­ter clos­es not with rage or dra­mat­ic con­flict, but with the under­stand­ing that respon­si­bil­i­ty begins at home, and that respect—both for ani­mals and each other—is a les­son that must be taught ear­ly, and often.