Jack and Harry came near, eager to learn what had been done to lame the horse.
The doctor opened his case, and took out some tweezers.
"Do you see this hair here?" he asked, having brushed the fetlock aside and taken the end of a hair in his fingers.
The boys saw it, but wondered what that hair could have to do with the lameness of the horse.
"It is not the right color," declared the doctor. "You see it is white, instead of being the color of the other hairs here."
Despite himself Frank felt his anger rising. How could the color of a hair make the horse lame? Did the man take him for a fool because he was a boy?
The three boys exchanged glances, and Harry made a threatening gesture at the back of the doctor's head.
"I see the hair is white, sir," said Frank, his voice cold and hard; "but I scarcely think a white hair could
make my horse go lame. I know I am a boy, but I do not like to be taken for a fool."
The doctor looked up and saw the indignation expressed on the faces of the three lads. Then he chuckled in a singular way and said: