"'Tis nigh on thirty," said Lars Peter, peering into its mouth.
"It may not be up to much, but the will's there right enough, just look at it!" He cracked his whip and the old steed threw its head back and started off. It didn't get very far, however, its movements were jerky and painful.
"Quite a high flier," said Lars Peter laughingly, "it looks as if a breath of air would blow it up to heaven. But are you sure it's not against the law to use it, when it's sold to be killed?"
Johannes nodded. "They won't know it when I've finished with it," said he.
As soon as he had had a meal, and got into his working clothes, he started to remodel the horse. He clipped its mane and tail, and cropped the hair round its hoofs.
"It only wants a little brown coloring to dye the gray hair—and a couple of bottles of arsenic, and then you'll see how smart and young she'll be. The devil himself wouldn't know her again."
"Did you learn these tricks from your master?" asked Lars Peter.
"No, from the old man. Never seen him at it?"
Lars Peter could not remember. "It must have been after my time," said he, turning away.
"'Tis a good old family trick," said Johannes.