But
Four-legs had become thoughtful; true, he still tossed his head
and pawed an impatient hoof, but that was merely for the sake of
appearances--Four-legs was thoughtful. No one had ever touched him so,
before--indeed blows had latterly been his portion--but this
Two-legs was different from his kind, besides, he had a pleasing
voice--a voice to soothe ragged nerves--there it was again! And then
surely, the touch of this hand awoke dim memories, reminded him of
far-off times when two-legged creatures had feared him less; and
there was the hand again! After all, things might be worse--the hand
that could be so gentle could be strong also; his mouth was sore yet,
and a strong man, strong-handed and gentle of voice, was better
than--oh, well!
Whether of all this, or any part of it, the great, black horse was
really thinking, who shall say? Howbeit Barnabas presently turned in
his saddle and beckoned the old groom to his stirrup.
"He'll be quiet now, I think," said he.
"Ah! that he will, sir. You've larned the trick o' voice an'
hand--it ain't many as has it--must be born in a man, I reckon, an'
'tis that as does more nor all your whips and spurs, an' curb-bits,
sir.
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