ces just for one
week. I tell you they'd scare some of us. Now, Pacer, that's over. I'm
not going to dose you much, for I don't believe in it. If a horse has
got a serious trouble, get a good horse doctor, say I. If it's a simple
thing, try a simple remedy. There's been many a good horse drugged and
dosed to death. Well, Scamp, my beauty, how are you, this morning?"

In the stall next to Pacer, was a small, jet-black mare, with a lean
head, slender legs, and a curious restless manner. She was a regular
greyhound of a horse, no spare flesh, yet wiry and able to do a great
deal of work. She was a wicked looking little thing, so I thought I had
better keep at a safe distance from her heels.

Mr. Wood petted her a great deal and I saw that she was his favorite.
"Saucebox," he exclaimed, when she pretended to bite him, "you know if
you bite me, I'll bite back again. I think I've conquered you," he said,
proudly, as he stroked her glossy neck; "but what a dance you led me. Do
you remember how I bought you for a mere song, because you had a bad
habit of turning around like a flash in front of anything that
frightened you, and bolting off the other way? And how did I cure you,
my beauty? Beat you and make you stubborn? Not I. I let you go round and
round; I turned you and twisted you, the oftener the better for me, till
at last I got it into your pretty head that turning and twisting was
addling your brains, and you had better let me be master.

"You've minded me from that day, haven't you? Horse, or man, or dog
aren't much good till they learn to obey, and I've thrown you down and
I'll do it again if you bite me, so take care."

Scamp tossed her pretty head, and took little pieces of Mr. Wood's shirt
sleeve in her mouth, keeping her cunning brown eye on him as if to see
how far she could go. But she did not bite him. I think she loved him,
for when he left her she whinnied shrilly, and he had to go back and
stroke and caress her.

After that I often used to watch her as she went about the farm. She
always seemed to be tugging and striving at her load, and trying to step
out fast and do a great deal of work. Mr. Wood was usually driving her.
The men didn't like her, and couldn't manage her. She had not been
properly broken in.

After Mr. Wood finished his work he went and stood in the doorway. There
were six horses altogether: Dutchman, Cleve, Pacer, Scamp, a bay mare
called Ruby, and a young horse belonging to Mr. Harry,