"`Come, old feller,' I says; and I stirred his food up a bit, and, as if understanding me, he put his nose in the manger, but he only blew the meat about--good bruised oats and chopped meat it was, too--and then he looks up at me again, as much as to say, `It's no good--I can't feed.' "So I took a handful of stuff out and held it to him, stroking his forelock with t'other hand, and he made a try at it, and then gave a regular sigh, and hung down his poor old head. "Well, I was obliged to go, for time was up; so I gave him a pat or two, and Wispey Joe a pint of beer to take care of him, and then, werry heavy-hearted and sad, I went on to the box, thinking a good deal about that there horse, for we seemed to have got to be such friends. `Tst,' I'd say, and them willing old shoulders of his would shoot into the collar till I checked him. He _was_ willing, and always seemed to be trying to show me how he could pull. "It was quarter-past eleven that night when I turned into the yard and got off the box. `How's the chestnut?' I says to Joe. `Good as gone,' he says. `The vet's with him now, and one of the foremen.' "I goes into the stable, along past the heels of a dozen horses, to where there was a lanthorn burning, and as I got up I saw my poor chestnut rear, strike his head against the roof, and then fall down on his side, kicking and moaning as if in pain, and lifting his pore head up and letting it fall again upon the heap of straw they had put in his stall. Poor old fellow! they'd put plenty of straw in to keep him from hurting himself as he lay there on his side throwing out his heels, and beating against the wooden side of the place with his hoofs. It was a pitiful sight, and I soon learnt that the veterinary surgeon had done all he could, but had very little hopes of him. He said it was some kind of inflammation with a long name; but I was taking more notice of my poor horse than of what he said. "`You'd best not go near him,' he said, `the poor thing is dangerous.' But before he'd finished speaking I was down on my knees in the straw with that faithful old head on my arm; and as I spoke, the poor thing turned up its muzzle and whinnied at me so pitifully, and let it fall again, that to have saved my life, ma'am, I couldn't have helped it, but leaned down over him, and the nat'ral softness of the man came dripping from my eyes, hot and fast, as it seemed to me that I was going to lose my poor old chestnut. "Of course it was very weak and childish, but then we are all weak and childish sometime or another; and you know it was almost in the dark, while I had my back to the two men looking on, besides being ever so far inside the stall. So for about a minute I went on like that, and then I said a few words to the poor thing again; and as often as I did so he tried to raise his head and whinny, and let it fall again.