“But you never thought of it till I told you,” said Old Gray. “Now, just try it.”
As the oats were all gone and could never be gotten back, the colt concluded there was no use in fretting any more about them. Yet he found himself thinking over Old Gray’s advice, and before night concluded to try it.
The next morning the boy came along as usual, and, stealing up softly by the colt’s side, gave him a thrust in the tender spot just behind his shoulder. The colt never winced, nor even turned his eyes toward him. The boy tried it again and again, with no better success, until he had to hurry away, for fear of a scolding from his master.
For several mornings after this he renewed the attempt (though with less spirit each morning), until, finding it made no impression, he gave it up altogether, and passed by whistling, with his hands in his pockets, as if no colt were there.
Shortly after this, one evening about sundown, as the colt was drinking in the stable-yard, Old Gray came in from ploughing.
Said the colt, raising his head from the horse-trough:
“Your advice was good and worth the oats, after all. I ask your pardon for being so rude the other morning.”