"Just see these nails," went on the farrier, presently, "as large again as they need or ought to be; and look at her hoofs all picked to pieces with the things. Well, Dr. Fred can't drive his 'trade' in many a week."
When the latter came out again and learned the true condition of things, he began to bluster about the man who had cheated him, and swore he'd make him trade back, but he never tried it. During the weeks that poor Kit was under treatment, he used Julie in the sulky and Dr. Dick rode me, excepting once in a while they drove Julie and Ross in the buggy. Fred wanted to drive me with Julie, but my master said "No," most emphatically.
"I will not be guilty of such barbarity," he declared, "and it is barbarous to drive a short-legged, heavy horse with a long-legged one;" but, despite his care, I was still to have a trial of it.
Perhaps I ought to mention that the first thing they did for Kit was to soak her feet, by having her stand in tubs of warm water. When the dry, cramped horn and stuff was thoroughly softened, they poulticed them with boiled turnip occasionally and kept her standing the most of the time in moist sawdust. In the day she ran out in the pasture if she liked, and all the time her feet were greased. In about two months the humane smith put some shoes on her, but they were very unlike those worn by the rest of us; they were made on purpose. He said they must be changed often. Then the Wallaces sold her to a farmer, after explaining the case to him—at least Dr. Dick did. He said she would be all right for farm work, but could never stand fast driving.
Imagine our joy, not long afterward, when Master came home one night with Julie in the sulky and Queen tied at the back. Dear Queen, how her eyes wandered to every familiar spot and how she neighed with gladness!
Ross and I answered lustily, and even Grim, the dog, barked and capered in welcome.
"I have been so homesick," she said, "oh, so dreadfully homesick, but I couldn't tell it! Again and again I opened my mouth and tried to articulate just the one word, 'Don't,' when Dr. Fred was making the trade, but of course, it only ended in what people call a whinny. If they would only try putting themselves in our places, maybe they could guess what we are trying to say."
Speaking of Grim, a little way back, reminds me that I should have introduced him before. Strange I could neglect to mention anything belonging to my master, or if not really belonging, indebted to him for home and existence. It all happened before I came, but the others told me of it. Dr. Dick had gone to a neighboring city on business, and while walking along the street one day was startled by the cry of "Mad-dog." Turning quickly, he saw a long, slender brown dog running toward him, pursued by a band of hoodlums with stones and clubs. Everybody cleared the way without question, even the policeman. In one glance he recognized, not a mad-dog, but an abused, frightened creature running for its life. He had thick driving-gloves on, and acting on the impulse of the moment, as well as on the impulse uppermost with him to defend the defenceless, he turned and clasped his hands about the panting animal's neck, at the same moment speaking gently and reassuringly to it. On pressed the mob, scattering and surrounding him, half-a-dozen clubs and knives raised to dispatch the dog.
"Fools, this dog is not mad; get out and let me manage him," he roared. A couple of police ventured near by this time, and he appealed to them to disperse the crowd.
I heard Master say myself that that dog looked up into his face with eyes of human intelligence, from which thanks and trust plainly shone out.