40 THE hopvSe's rescue. 



times. Rub lightly, put on a light blanket, and make 

 her a good, soft, dry bed. 



Gracious heavens ! It is daylight, time to feedj and 

 I want my breakfast, too. 



" Hello ! Doaii ; sharpen these horses ; have them 

 done in an hoar ?" 



**Yes." 



I want to say here that whiskey had nothing to do 

 with curino; that mare's stiffness. It miorht have made 

 her feel better, and it might have helped take out the 

 soreness. But it was the work done on the feet that 

 cured her. Castile soap and water was all I needed to 

 cure her scabby legs. Water v/ould have cleaned them. 

 I have cured hundreds since, and used no whisky; all 

 I use is water. It is science, principle. I wanted to 

 make the mare comfortable, so she could lie down and 

 rest and sleep. All should do the same. If the 

 horse could talk in a language that we could under- 

 stand, you would hear louder bugling than you ever 

 heard from me. You would think that it was the 

 judgment-day, and that the supreme court of heaven 

 was in session. 



I use the word "cure " in this book because it is in 

 common use, to convey what we are talking about. It 

 is all well enough ; but I do not cure these horses — I 

 remove the cause and nature repairs the damages. 

 When I go at a horse to fix him up, I look him over 

 and do all I can that will make him comfortable. 



The day's work is done in the shop. It has been a 

 hard road all day, I tell you. In all stages of suffer- 

 ing I have helped some, and I have made some worse, 

 whicli I well knew ; but I did the best I could for 



