Nic set his teeth, and rolled off his horse in a most ungraceful way, to stand feeling as if the ground was unsafe and all on the move.
“Hurt?” said his father, smiling.
“Yes, father. It’s as if my legs had been dragged wide apart and stretched.”
“Getting in shape for your saddle, my boy. You’ll soon get over this. Now look here.”
Nic did look there, and was shown how to hobble his nag’s fore legs to keep it from straying, and how to unbridle and take off the saddle.
“Always give your horse a good rub down where the saddle has been, Nic,” said the doctor. “Horses are delicate animals. They deserve good treatment too. Your nag carries you well, and he looks to you for payment in food, rest, and good treatment. These make all the difference in the way a horse will last on a journey. Now, my lads, come along. Water.”
The doctor led the way, and the horses followed like a couple of dogs. Nic was following too, with the sensation strongly upon him that he should like to go down on all-fours and follow like a dog, for walking seemed to be a mode of progress to which he was not accustomed.
“Wait a moment, Nic,” said his father. “Unfasten the dogs and lead them here. They must want water too.”
Nic went to where the dogs were chained to the tail of the waggon, trying to walk firmly and erect, but it was hard work, for his legs seemed to be independent of his body, and there were moments when he felt as if he had none at all.
But he tried not to show it, and while the men were unyoking the oxen, which immediately began to graze on the rich, succulent grass, Nic proceeded to unchain the dogs.