“Because the mud stopped its nostrils and it could not breathe.”
“But can’t oxen breathe through their mouths?”
“They either can’t, or they think they can’t, for they never make any effort to do it. It was having its breathing suddenly checked that so startled and terrified the creature that it instinctively sprang to its feet, and its whole mood was changed.”
“And where—if one may ask—did you become the possessor of such a unique and valuable piece of information?”
(By Jove, she was pretty, he reflected, and particularly so at that moment, when, for some reason, a flood of lovely rose-color suffused her face.)
“A neighbor of ours told me about it,” she said. “I am glad I happened to think of it.”
“I should think so, indeed! But for that timely thought of yours, we should probably have spent the day there, awaiting that brute’s pleasure!”
He knew that this was not so, but he suddenly found himself possessed of a consuming desire to do homage to this girl.
And to tell the truth, she looked not unused to homage. Indeed, she was far more natural and at her ease, now that she was being made much of and paid court to, than she had been, when neglected and left alone. There could be no doubt as to which of these conditions was her accustomed element.
When the racing began, the general interest centered on the track, of course, and as the different horses were led out, Carter showed and expressed such a knowingness on the subject that all the men listened with visible interest to what she had to say. The remarks of the other women sounded the merest banalités in comparison, for this little country maiden knew a horse as she knew a friend.