This seemed to bring me to my senses, and when they yelled, "Whoa," I stopped. I was all of a tremble. They led me back till they came to Minnie, crying by the roadside and rearranging her hair. At first she refused to get into the saddle again, and I hoped she'd hold out, but she didn't, and I had all I could do to keep from running again, her weight hurt that sore so.
The next day we went again, with Park on Prince for escort. The saddle hurt as badly as before—worse, I guess—and presently, when they undertook a race, the torture was too much, and I reared, throwing my lady off again. Park caught the bridle with a jerk that almost threw me to the ground, and while I was recovering myself he slid from his horse. Tying the latter by the roadside, he removed the saddle, and proceeded to give me the dreadfulest whipping, with the whip he carried.
I had never been really whipped before in my life, and I scarcely know which hurt me the worst, the lash or the injustice and humiliation; probably the lash, though, for it cut mercilessly into the sore.
Suddenly Minnie screamed:
"Don't, don't, Park; just see the blood! Oh, what will the doctor say?"
But the young man was mad, I suppose; anyway he thrashed away until he was tired.
Sobbing hysterically, Minnie wiped the blood from my back with her handkerchief, and refused to mount again. They had a quarrel, but I was too faint and sore to pay much attention.
And to think I could never tell my Master one word about it. That was four days before he came home, and I was not out of the stable again.
Dr. Fred came in the morning after my whipping, examined my back and swore frightfully. Said he'd a notion to horsewhip Park, and promised him his dismissal when Master came home. It all tended to make the fellow ugly, and every one of the Wallace horses have cause to remember those four days. They seemed a veritable reign of terror.
All the while he was putting something on my back that smarted it dreadfully.