The Horse, as Comrade and Friend 



support. Suck — suck — suck. He pushes so 

 hard that the milk in the other teat is forced 

 out in a fine spray over his nose and his face. 

 Nothing matters. He is glued to that teat 

 as if, once lost, it would be lost for ever and 

 ever. The old mare is frightfully pleased. 

 He is not such a fool as she thought. The 

 foal's tail is ashake in the ecstasy of that first 

 long drink, and the mare bends round her 

 head and licks it and to as far as she can reach 

 of his rump. She hcks his buttocks and hocks 

 — he is her very own foal. 



Every good thing has an end and, suck hard 

 as he may, Mr. Foal has the dreadful fact 

 forced upon him that, still frightfully hungry, 

 the sustenance has come to a conclusion. He 

 tries again. No result. It's altogether too 

 bad. Once more. He thought he had got a 

 taste of it that time and perseveres, but no 

 good. This is terrible, and he withdraws to 

 think the matter over. A bright idea strikes 

 him. He has discovered one favoured spot ; 

 and might there not be others ? He renews 

 his search. He is still of opinion that a Refresh- 

 ment Bar should always be right in the fore- 

 front of the premises, and accordingly rein- 

 vestigates all the country around his Mother's 

 forelegs. Barren of all result. He considers, 

 and it occurs to him that he has not yet ex- 

 plored the off side of his dam and that there 

 might be surprises there. It is worth trying, 



204 



