and turned deadly cold; my legs ached, my loins ached, and my chest ached, and I felt sore all over.  This developed into a strong inflammation, and I could not draw my breath without pain.  John nursed me night and day.  My master, too, often came to see me.  “My poor Beauty,” he said one day, “my good horse, you saved your mistress’ life, Beauty; yes, you saved her life.”  I was very glad to hear that, for it seems the doctor had said if we had been a little longer it would have been too late.  John told my master he never saw a horse go so fast in his life.  It seems as if the horse knew what was the matter.  Of course I did, though John thought not; at least I knew as much as this—­that John and I must go at the top of our speed, and that it was for the sake of the mistress.

CHAPTER VIII

THE PARTING

I had lived in this happy place three years, but sad changes were about to come over us.  We heard that our mistress was ill.  The doctor was often at the house, and the master looked grave and anxious.  Then we heard that she must go to a warm country for two or three years.  The news fell upon the household like the tolling of a death-bell.  Everybody was sorry.  The master arranged for breaking up his establishment and leaving England.  We used to hear it talked about in our stable; indeed, nothing else was talked about.  John went about his work silent and sad, and Joe scarcely whistled.  There was a great deal of coming and going; Ginger and I had full work.

The first of the party who went were Miss Jessie and Flora with their governess.  They came to bid us good-bye.  They hugged poor Merrylegs like an old friend, and so indeed he was.  Then we heard what had been arranged for us.  Master had sold Ginger and me to an old friend.  Merrylegs he had given to the vicar, who was wanting a pony for Mrs. Blomefield, but it was on the condition that he should never be sold, and that when he was past work he should be shot and buried.  Joe was engaged to take care of him and to help in the house, so I thought that Merrylegs was well off.

[Illustration]

“Have you decided what to do, John?” he said.

“No, sir; I have made up my mind that if I could get a situation with some first-rate colt-breaker and horse-trainer, it would be the right thing for me.  Many young animals are frightened and spoiled by wrong treatment, which need not be if the right man took them in hand.  I always get on well with horses, and if I could help some of them to a fair start I should feel as if I was doing some good.  What do you think of it, sir?”

“I don’t know a man anywhere,” said master, “that I should think so suitable for it as yourself.  You understand horses, and somehow they understand you, and I think you could not do better.”

The last sad day had come; the footman and the heavy luggage had gone off the day before, and there were only master and mistress, and her maid.  Ginger and I brought the carriage up to the Hall door, for the last time.  The servants brought out cushions and rugs, and when all were arranged, master came down the steps carrying the mistress in his arms (I was on the side next the house, and could see all that went on); he placed her carefully in the carriage, while the house servants stood round crying.