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<h2> 30 A Thief </h2>
<p>My new master was an unmarried man. He lived at Bath, and was much engaged
in business. His doctor advised him to take horse exercise, and for this
purpose he bought me. He hired a stable a short distance from his
lodgings, and engaged a man named Filcher as groom. My master knew very
little about horses, but he treated me well, and I should have had a good
and easy place but for circumstances of which he was ignorant. He ordered
the best hay with plenty of oats, crushed beans, and bran, with vetches,
or rye grass, as the man might think needful. I heard the master give the
order, so I knew there was plenty of good food, and I thought I was well
off.</p>
<p>For a few days all went on well. I found that my groom understood his
business. He kept the stable clean and airy, and he groomed me thoroughly;
and was never otherwise than gentle. He had been an hostler in one of the
great hotels in Bath. He had given that up, and now cultivated fruit and
vegetables for the market, and his wife bred and fattened poultry and
rabbits for sale. After awhile it seemed to me that my oats came very
short; I had the beans, but bran was mixed with them instead of oats, of
which there were very few; certainly not more than a quarter of what there
should have been. In two or three weeks this began to tell upon my
strength and spirits. The grass food, though very good, was not the thing
to keep up my condition without corn. However, I could not complain, nor
make known my wants. So it went on for about two months; and I wondered
that my master did not see that something was the matter. However, one
afternoon he rode out into the country to see a friend of his, a gentleman
farmer, who lived on the road to Wells.</p>
<p>This gentleman had a very quick eye for horses; and after he had welcomed
his friend he said, casting his eye over me:</p>
<p>“It seems to me, Barry, that your horse does not look so well as he did
when you first had him; has he been well?”</p>
<p>“Yes, I believe so,” said my master; “but he is not nearly so lively as he
was; my groom tells me that horses are always dull and weak in the autumn,
and that I must expect it.”</p>
<p>“Autumn, fiddlesticks!” said the farmer. “Why, this is only August; and
with your light work and good food he ought not to go down like this, even
if it was autumn. How do you feed him?”</p>
<p>My master told him. The other shook his head slowly, and began to feel me
over.</p>
<p>“I can't say who eats your corn, my dear fellow, but I am much mistaken if
your horse gets it. Have you ridden very fast?”</p>
<p>“No, very gently.”</p>
<p>“Then just put your hand here,” said he, passing his hand over my neck and
shoulder; “he is as warm and damp as a horse just come up from grass. I
advise you to look into your stable a little more. I hate to be
suspicious, and, thank heaven, I have no cause to be, for I can trust my
men, present or absent; but there are mean scoundrels, wicked enough to
rob a dumb beast of his food. You must look into it.” And turning to his
man, who had come to take me, “Give this horse a right good feed of
bruised oats, and don't stint him.”</p>
<p>“Dumb beasts!” Yes, we are; but if I could have spoken I could have told
my master where his oats went to. My groom used to come every morning
about six o'clock, and with him a little boy, who always had a covered
basket with him. He used to go with his father into the harness-room,
where the corn was kept, and I could see them, when the door stood ajar,
fill a little bag with oats out of the bin, and then he used to be off.</p>
<p>Five or six mornings after this, just as the boy had left the stable, the
door was pushed open, and a policeman walked in, holding the child tight
by the arm; another policeman followed, and locked the door on the inside,
saying, “Show me the place where your father keeps his rabbits' food.”</p>
<p>The boy looked very frightened and began to cry; but there was no escape,
and he led the way to the corn-bin. Here the policeman found another empty
bag like that which was found full of oats in the boy's basket.</p>
<p>Filcher was cleaning my feet at the time, but they soon saw him, and
though he blustered a good deal they walked him off to the “lock-up”, and
his boy with him. I heard afterward that the boy was not held to be
guilty, but the man was sentenced to prison for two months.</p>
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