“If that’s the case, I suppose you’ll have to stand where you are.”

“I was born and raised on that farm,” said the horse; “I know that there is a large barn and a big cow shed, with many empty stalls and mangers, and I was wondering if you couldn’t manage in some way or other to get us in over there.”

“I don’t think I could venture—­” hesitated the boy.  But he felt so sorry for the poor beasts that he wanted at least to try.

He ran into the strange barn yard and saw at once that all the outhouses were locked and the keys gone.  He stood there, puzzled and helpless, when aid came to him from an unexpected source.  A gust of wind came sweeping along with terrific force and flung open a shed door right in front of him.

The boy was not long in getting back to the horse.

“It isn’t possible to get into the barn or the cow house,” he said, “but there’s a big, empty hay shed that they have forgotten to bolt.  I can lead you into that.”

“Thank you!” said the horse.  “It will seem good to sleep once more on familiar ground.  It’s the only happiness I can expect in this life.”

Meanwhile, at the flourishing farm opposite the inn, the family sat up much later than usual that evening.

The master of the place was a man of thirty-five, tall and dignified, with a handsome but melancholy face.  During the day he had been out in the rain and had got wet, like every one else, and at supper he asked his old mother, who was still mistress of the place, to light a fire on the hearth that he might dry his clothes.  The mother kindled a feeble blaze—­for in that house they were not wasteful with wood—­and the master hung his coat on the back of a chair, and placed it before the fire.  With one foot on top of the andiron and a hand resting on his knee, he stood gazing into the embers.  Thus he stood for two whole hours, making no move other than to cast a log on the fire now and then.

The mistress removed the supper things and turned down his bed for the night before she went to her own room and seated herself.  At intervals she came to the door and looked wonderingly at her son.

“It’s nothing, mother.  I’m only thinking,” he said.

His thoughts were on something that had occurred shortly before:  When he passed the inn a horse dealer had asked him if he would not like to purchase a horse, and had shown him an old nag so weather-beaten that he asked the dealer if he took him for a fool, since he wished to palm off such a played-out beast on him.

“Oh, no!” said the horse dealer.  “I only thought that, inasmuch as the horse once belonged to you, you might wish to give him a comfortable home in his old age; he has need of it.”

Then he looked at the horse and recognized it as one which he himself had raised and broken in; but it did not occur to him to purchase such an old and useless creature on that account.  No, indeed!  He was not one who squandered his money.