The epidemic abated with the early frosts, and the Wallace brothers had
a little more leisure. Dr. Dick was thin and pale, but assured Mrs.
Fred, when she worried about it, that he would soon pick up.
One day Dr. Fred drove home with Julie and a new mate. He had traded
Queen off. The new horse was named Kit, and she did not match Julie in
color as Queen had.
Mrs. Fred cried. She said it seemed just like trading one of the family
off, and she could not endure it.
Dr. Dick looked dark, but only added, "I regret it exceedingly."
"You're a--pair of fools," growled Fred, "and I have had enough of this
nonsense! A horse is no more than any other piece of property, and I'll
trade every one on the place if I please."
"You dasn't trade Dandy," cried the eldest of the family hopefuls,
saucily; "he's Uncle Dick's."
Bob unhitched the new mare and led her into Queen's stall.
How we all felt!
But before her harness was fairly off, the unwelcome stranger lay flat
on her side, her whole frame quivering and her four legs stretched
straight out.
Bob yelled, and both men hurried back to the barn.
Fred stood staring helplessly, and then I surmised, what I afterwards
learned to be true, that with all his headstrong swagger he was as
helpless as a child when things went wrong.
"Poor thing!" said my Master pityingly, "it is some disease of the
foot."
He examined her feet as well as he could and then sent for the smith to
remove her shoes.
"There is nothing particular wrong with these shoes," the smith said,
"but her feet are in a fearful condition from wrong shoeing and
senseless cutting and rasping in the past. I am ashamed of our
craftsmen. Blacksmiths are, as a class, the most unenlightened,
pig-headed men in the world. I can trace the history of this poor
beast's sufferings right down. First some man, with more theory than
sense, took her feet, perfect from the hand of the Creator, who, knowing
enough to make a horse, knew enough to make its feet, and with his knife
trimmed the frog and thinned the sole until he could feel it yield when
he pressed on it. (This is an important part of the average farrier's
creed). Next, I suppose, he 'opened the heel,' and then proceeded to
nail on a shoe, regardless of whether it fitted or not. The chances for
its fitting would be about equal to yours or mine if we shut our eyes in
a shoe store and picked out a pair of boots at random. As the shoe
didn't fit the foot, the foot must be made to fit the shoe, so down came
the ever-ready rasp, and the business was finished up speedily. From
that hour, doubtless years ago, this poor creature has suffered untold
torture. Meantime, dozens of bunglers have tried their knives, rasps and
hammers on mangled feet. God forgive them!"
"I don't know," put in Dr. Dick, "whether one ought to pray for
blessings or curses on such men."
"Well, such things will go on until owners of horseflesh inform
themselves on this subject, and then insist upon having the work done
right.
"I often think, as I watch team after team pass along the street, of the
dumb agony, unguessed at, moving by. Two-thirds of our horses suffer
daily with their feet. Most cases of stumbling are from diseased feet,
induced by improper shoeing, and yet men are forever jerking and cursing
the stumbling horse."
"You are a man after my own heart!" Dr. Dick said in his frank, hearty
way.
"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.
Of course, the dog wasn't mad, but somebody had started the story; and
Ross says give a horse, cow, dog, cat, or any creature that cannot speak
for itself, a bad name and it is worse than killing it outright. Well,
Master fed and petted the half-dead creature, and finally brought him
home to Chet and Carm, Dr. Fred's boys.
Grim was quite a character in his way and much respected, inasmuch as he
gave warning once in the night when the house was on fire, and saved the
little daughter of a neighbor when a vicious cow was about to gore her.
Dr. Dick says that either here or hereafter all kind deeds shall be
rewarded; "and unkind ones, too," he usually adds.
As the nights became cold, Grim left the rug on the front porch and came
to the barn. I invited him to sleep in my manger and soon we became
intimate friends.
One night when the other horses--that is, the bays--were out and Ross so
far off that our talk would not disturb him, I asked Grim about his
early life.
"Well," he said, "there is not much to tell. I cannot remember when I
did not live in the pretty brown cottage on South street, in the city
where Dr. Dick found me. My constant playmate was a little girl with
sunny curls and a sweet face. Ruthie her name was. They were all kind to
me there, feeding and petting me continually, but one day something
happened, I don't know what, but Ruthie and her mother went off in a
strange carriage early in the afternoon. I watched for their return, but
it came on dark and master came home, and still they weren't there. I
trotted around after him until he picked up a letter that lay on the
dining table. I noticed that his fingers trembled and he grew very white
as he read it. At last he began rushing madly about the room, crushing
the letter in his hands and fairly hissing.
"Suddenly he dropped on his knees beside me and gathering me in his
arms, sobbed out: 'I am going to find Ruthie, Brownie [I was called
Brownie then] and maybe I'll----,' but he did not finish the sentence.
He was in the bedroom awhile, then he came out, dressed for traveling,
told me to go out, went out himself, locked the door and was soon lost
to sight in the darkness. I could not understand, but felt that some
dreadful thing had happened. I did not feel hungry that night, nor did I
sleep much. In the morning I dug up a buried bone and made a very poor
breakfast. Night found me still more lonely and hungry. Thus many days
passed, and I was obliged to beg my meals at the neighbor's over the
way. Such a sad life as I led, lying most of the time on the porch
guarding the shut door. I felt myself responsible. Toward fall a strange
man and woman came, unlocked the doors and took possession; but they
would have nothing to say to me, only to bid me 'begone.' It all seemed
worse yet. While the house was alone I felt that I had a home, but now I
was ordered from even my old rug. No wonder that I got poor and thin and
people thought that I acted strangely. I heard the woman tell a neighbor
that she and her husband had rented the house, all furnished, till
spring. She grew more unkind to me every day, and was always wondering
what that 'horrid dog hung skulking around for.' Once her husband told
her that it was because it was my home. 'Well,' she said, 'it ain't now,
and I'll have him shot, or I'll scald him if he don't keep away.'
"I am sure she was the one to start the story about my being mad.
"Well, I was saved by Dr. Dick, and I love him and all that belongs to
him as only a grateful dog can love."
"What a terribly cruel thing for your people to leave you there
unprovided for!" I cried, indignantly.
"Yes, it was cruel, but I am sure some great trouble came to them else
they never would have done it. Anyway, it is no uncommon thing for folks
to leave their pets that way; I have known many instances. While I lived
in the city an old lady in the next street went away to spend the
winter, leaving her pet cat to forage for itself. The poor creature was
dreadful shy, but I used to see her sit day in and day out on the cold,
icy step, looking piteously up at the door and waiting for it to be
opened. One very cold morning I noticed her there and thought I would
carry over a piece of my meat. She always ran away when she saw me, but
I thought I could lay it down and she would come back to it. Imagine my
surprise when she never moved. At last I stood beside her, and then I
saw she was dead; starved and frozen, her sightless eyes still looking
up at the door-knob."
"How terrible!" I said.
"Yes, and some other time I will tell you of other things I knew about
there, but we have had enough for one night. Hark! I hear Master's
bells!"