Chap­ter 12: A Stormy Day begins with a brisk autumn morn­ing as Black Beau­ty is har­nessed for a jour­ney with his mas­ter and John, the coach­man. Though recent rains have made the ground soft and the riv­er dan­ger­ous­ly high, the atmos­phere at the start is pleas­ant and fresh. The dog-cart, being light, moves eas­i­ly along the ear­ly part of the route. They pass through vil­lages and fields, the roads already mud­dy from the sea­son’s down­pour. The group is in good spir­its, unaware of how quick­ly the day will turn. Trees sway gen­tly as they trav­el, and the sound of rush­ing water grows loud­er with every mile. When they reach the wood­en bridge near the toll-bar, the riv­er is lap­ping near­ly at its beams, swollen with rain and runoff from the hills. Despite a warn­ing from the gate­keep­er, they press on, trust­ing in John’s skill and Black Beauty’s steadi­ness.

After com­plet­ing their busi­ness in the near­by town, the return jour­ney begins under a sky now dark­en­ing with low clouds. The wind grows stronger as they move past the wood­ed area, and the air turns sharp and cold. Sud­den­ly, a mas­sive oak crash­es down onto the path ahead, splin­ter­ing branch­es and block­ing their route entire­ly. The noise star­tles every­one, but John quick­ly stead­ies the dog-cart and keeps Black Beau­ty calm. With the path blocked, they must cir­cle back to take a dif­fer­ent road. As the wind howls and rain begins to fall hard­er, the land­scape becomes increas­ing­ly unfa­mil­iar in the fad­ing light. The detour is longer than expect­ed, and when they final­ly reach the sec­ond bridge near the river­bank, the area is bare­ly vis­i­ble under the storm’s inten­si­ty.

Black Beau­ty hes­i­tates at the water’s edge, sens­ing some­thing wrong beneath the sur­face. Though John speaks calm­ly and the mas­ter urges them for­ward, the horse refus­es to step onto the bridge. Frus­trat­ed, the mas­ter strikes Black Beau­ty light­ly with the whip, but the horse holds firm, legs braced and head slight­ly turned. John, con­cerned by the behav­ior, dis­mounts and exam­ines the area. Just as he does, the toll-keep­er rush­es out, shout­ing that the bridge has par­tial­ly col­lapsed, washed away by the flood­wa­ters. If they had crossed, the cart would have plunged into the riv­er. Their nar­row escape is sober­ing, and both men real­ize that Black Beauty’s intu­ition saved their lives. With qui­et relief, they turn back and seek high­er ground.

As they trav­el back in silence, the weight of what near­ly hap­pened set­tles in. John pats Black Beauty’s neck with grat­i­tude, mur­mur­ing praise for the horse’s sense and courage. The mas­ter, too, acknowl­edges the role instinct played in spar­ing them all a tragedy. The return route is longer, but safer, and though drenched and chilled by the time they arrive home, all three are unharmed. The sta­bles are warm and dry, and Black Beau­ty is rubbed down care­ful­ly, giv­en extra oats and a warm mash as thanks. In the qui­et that fol­lows, the events of the day replay in their minds—how quick­ly weath­er turned, how close dan­ger came, and how calm think­ing and ani­mal instinct made all the dif­fer­ence. The storm pass­es by morn­ing, leav­ing bro­ken branch­es and over­flow­ing ditch­es as a reminder.

This chap­ter under­scores the wis­dom ani­mals often pos­sess, espe­cial­ly when they are treat­ed well and allowed to think for them­selves. Black Beauty’s refusal wasn’t defiance—it was an act of under­stand­ing, one that came from expe­ri­ence and a deep con­nec­tion to his sur­round­ings. For the read­er, it’s a pow­er­ful moment show­ing how respect between human and horse can become life-sav­ing trust. The nar­ra­tive doesn’t over­state the dra­ma but lets the facts and emo­tions speak for them­selves. In doing so, it gen­tly insists that the voic­es of ani­mals, though silent, must be heed­ed. This sto­ry becomes not just about a stormy day, but about the qui­et intel­li­gence that loy­al­ty and kind­ness can awak­en. Through wind and rain, a bond stronger than words car­ried them safe­ly home.