When his ten days were up Peter almost wished that he did not have to go back to the factory again. He had been tinkering around with the thrashing machine, oiling the parts and tightening a nut here and there. He hoped that he might be thrashing boss again next summer. 2 "You might at least think of Early Ann," Stud's wife had said. He _had_ thought of her until his spirit was tired, argued the problem with himself, tossed in his sleep. Now he was almost happy to have another grievance to occupy his mind. Momentarily Early Ann was forgotten. The Percheron had been grained too heavily and had not been given sufficient exercise. What else might be the matter with the great beast, the Lord alone knew. "You and me, both!" Stud said to the sick stallion. "I wish all I had the matter with me was a belly ache." Doc Carlyle was out of town, so it was up to Brailsford to save the horse,--no easy task. Teddy Roosevelt's head drooped almost to the floor; his big, shining barrel was blown, and his eyes were dull and lifeless. As Stanley and Gus stood watching the unfortunate animal he suddenly jerked up his head, pawed the floor, and tried to climb into the manger with his front feet. "Poor old bastard," said Gus. "Run get the pig bladder and elder shoot," Stanley said. "I'll fix some turpentine and linseed oil." The turpentine made the stallion frantic. He broke into a cold sweat, plunged around and around his pen, threw himself down with a crash, rolled over and got up again, dashed headlong into the planks of his stall, stood on his hind legs pawing the air wildly, screamed and foamed at the mouth, fell to the floor--his gigantic muscles contracting spasmodically under his gleaming black hide. There was a mad, frightened light in his eyes. "It'd be like losing a member of the family," Gus said. "We've got to save him," Brailsford cried. "Get Sarah to put over a boiler of water. And bring the cayenne pepper and baking soda and barbadoes aloes off the medicine shelf." All night Stanley Brailsford worked over the Percheron, carried steaming blankets to cover the heaving body, forced whiskey down the terrified animal's throat, tried to soothe the brute by petting him and talking to him as he would a sick child. He fixed himself a bed on the feed box and tried to snatch a few winks of sleep. Shortly after midnight a cold wind made the lantern flicker. Stud Brailsford looked up to see Early Ann with coffee pot and sandwiches. "I couldn't sleep," she said. "How's the stallion?" "Ain't kicking around so bad." Early Ann gazed thoughtfully at the horse for several moments. "Probably stomach staggers," she said. "How'd you know?" "I've taken care of 'em before."