THE STRIKE AT SHANE'S. 11 



with the sun to begin their daily duties. The conver- 

 sation of the previous evening had been forgotten by 

 Shane — or at least thrust into the background by more 

 important matters ; and as he hurried to the barn to 

 look after the feeding, his only thought was how to get 

 the most work done that day. He walked down the 

 row of stalls, throwing corn into the feed boxes, until 

 he came to Dobbin's stall, w^hen he stopped as though 

 thunderstruck. Old Dobbin was standing with his 

 head down, wheezing like a man with the asthma. 



"Hello; here's a fine go, right in the busy season. 

 Just my everlastin' bad luck!" he exclaimed, for the 

 appearance of Dobbin indicated a severe case of lung 

 fever. 



Shane never gave any thought to the comfort of his 

 animals, and Tom followed in the footsteps of his 

 father. He had brought Dobbin home wet with sweat, 

 and tied him in his stall without rubbing him down, 

 and such a thing as a blanket was never heard of in 

 Shane's stables. Tom's ill temper had made him even 

 forget to put in the usual bedding of clean straw, and 

 the result was, as any good horseman might expect, 

 that Dobbin had taken a severe cold. 



" How now, Tom," cried Shane, as Tom entered the 

 barn, "here's a nice mess you've made of things." 



Tom stood with his hands in his pockets, staring at 

 Dobbin ; and while his conscience compelled him to 

 feel a little sympathy for the old horse's sufferings, yet 

 he had the secret satisfaction of knowing that he would 

 not have to drive him any m^ore for a few days, aiiv- 

 how. 



