Peace groaned and said—
“As bad as that, eh?”
“Has he been overdriven?” observed the gipsy.
“Yes, he has.”
“I thought so, and by whom?”
“By me.”
Peace hereupon proceeded to put the gipsy in possession of all those facts with which the reader is already acquainted.
“Ah, Charlie,” said Rawton, after the narrative had been brought to a conclusion; “you’ve knocked him silly. A ’oss is pretty much like a man in many respects. If you make him do more than he ought to do it’s pretty sure to find him out, even as it finds us out. He’s a purty creature, was a free goer-he was none of you sleepy-headed brutes. Worse luck, perhaps, seeing as how he’s done so much for his master. Why, lor’ bless yer, he’d ha’ gone till he dropped—that’s what he’d ha’ done. Don’t I know it—haven’t I put him into a pelting pace myself afore now?”
“You have, and he was none the worse for it.”
“That’s just where it is—he was none the worse for it, but I expect as how it was nothing to what you made him do.”