I had often heard Master and the good blacksmith in the old home denounce the fashion of trimming the frog and thinning the sole until it yielded to the pressure of the thumb, and that was just what this smith did. And then he put on great, heavy shoes, driving in spikes rather than nails.
I admit that I kicked and plunged, but it was all wrong, and I knew it; then the last spike went through into the foot. This made me rear and plunge worse than ever, and the blacksmith struck me with the hammer.
"See here, Dr. Dick Wallace won't stand that," cried Herman. "He allows no man to strike Dandy."
"Don't reckon he's better than other horses," he answered.
"Folks might differ on that," said Herman.
Well, I got out of there at last, but my foot hurt intolerably, and I limped. Herman spoke of it to Dr. Fred, but the latter was in one of his gruff moods, and only answered:
"It 'most always lames 'em at first."
That night a man came for a doctor in great haste; some one had taken poison by mistake. Dandy was ordered.
If I could have spoken, how soon I would have convinced Herman that, with that terrible torture in my foot, I could not go, but I could only mutely look at him, and he, half asleep, paid no attention. It was a good many miles we went, and the doctor drove like mad. It seemed to me that running through fire would have been easy compared with the pain in my foot, aggravated by the ceaseless concussion of the hard roads.