With a blanket thrown over me, I was left tied in a shed. How I longed to lie down on something! All I could do was to hold up that leg. The pains extended clear into my shoulders, and the cords of my neck were growing stiff.
After a long time, a man came out and unhitched me from the road cart. The moment I was free I lay down. Directly the man ran and brought Dr. Fred. They bade me get up, and, rather than to disobey, I tried it, but the moment I threw any weight on that foot had to immediately lay down again.
Presently the man noticed me holding that foot, and asked if I was not newly shod. Then Dr. Fred remembered.
"Well, Dandy," he said, "we must get home. Try it once more."
I got on my feet, but had to hold that one up for awhile. Gradually I compelled myself to put it down, for I knew we must go, as he had said.
That was long years ago, but even now I can feel some of the agony of that slow journey.
He went with Herman and me to the shop, and fiercely ordered that shoe removed. The smith was not nearly so independent then. When the doctor saw the heavy thing he raved more than ever.
"Do you put such shoes as those on a horse like this?" he cried.
The result was that all the shoes came off, and I was put in my stall till my feet got well.
"An ounce at the toe means a pound at the withers," quoted the old stable man. "And there's truth in it; glad the doctor had sense enough to refuse them."