What sort of a trick was it the horse had?
The captain was wholly absorbed in breaking the bay to harness. The horse turned his head to the right, and kept over on the side of the road just as far as he could for the rein. It was impossible to find any reason for it.
This morning he had broken off one of the trace-pins by driving against the gate-post. Was it possible that he was afraid of a shadow? That was an idea!—and the captain determined to try him in the moonlight that evening.
When he came down to the stable after dinner, he saw a wonderful sight.
Great-Ola had taken the bay out of his stall, and was standing shaking his fist against the horse's forehead.
"Well, I have tried him every way, Captain, but he wouldn't wink, not even if I broke his skull with the back of an axe—he doesn't move! And now see how he jumps!" He raised his hand towards the other side of the horse's head. "But in his left eye he is as blind as a shut cellar door."
The captain stood awhile without saying a word; the veins on his forehead swelled up blue, and his face became as red as the collar on his uniform coat.
"Well, then." In a rage he gave Ola a box on his ears. "Are you standing there threatening the horse, you dog?"
When Ola was feeding the horse at night, the captain went into the stall. He took the lantern and let it shine on the bay. "No use to cure you of going into the ditch—See there, Ola, take that shilling, so that you at all events may profit by it."
Ola's broad face lighted up with cunning. "The doctor must provide himself with planks, for the one he got ate up three two-inch boards while we had him."