And so long as you
don't lift your feet better, but fall asleep between every step,
you'll run a good chance of laming all your ankles as you call
them, one after another. It's not your lively horse that comes
to grief in that way. I tell you I believe it wasn't much, and
if it was, it was your own fault. There! I've done. I'm going to
sleep. I'll try to think as well of you as I can. If you would
but step out a bit and run off a little of your fat!" Here
Diamond began to double up his knees; but Ruby spoke again, and,
as young Diamond thought, in a rather different tone.
"I say, Diamond, I can't bear to have an honest old horse
like you think of me like that. I will tell you the truth: it
was my own fault that I fell lame."
"I told you so," returned the other, tumbling against the
partition as he rolled over on his side to give his legs every
possible privilege in their narrow circumstances.
"I meant to do it, Diamond."
At the words, the old horse arose with a scramble like
thunder, shot his angry head and glaring eye over into Ruby's
stall, and said --
"Keep out of my way, you unworthy wretch, or I'll bite you.
You a horse! Why did you do that?"
"Because I wanted to grow fat."
"You grease-tub! Oh! my teeth and tail! I thought you were
a humbug! Why did you want to get fat? There's no truth to be
got out of you but by cross-questioning.
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