The intelligent animal seemed to understand. It turned its head towards its master, and answered him with a plaintive neigh. The horseman, during this period, had been feeling in his girdle; and bending again over the horse,—
"Mind and hold him tightly," he again recommended.
"What are you going to do?"
"Bleed him."
"Yes, that is it. I knew it; but unfortunately I did not dare risk doing it myself, through fear of killing the horse."
"All right?"
"Go on."
The horse made a hasty move, caused by the coldness of the wound; but its master held it down and checked its struggles. The two men suffered a moment of anxiety: the blood did not issue. At last a black drop appeared in the wound, then a second, speedily followed by a long jet of black and foaming blood.
"He is saved," the stranger said, as he wiped his lancet and returned it to his fob.
"I will repay you this, on the word of Belhumeur!" the owner of the horse said with much emotion. "You have rendered me one of those services which are never forgotten."