“What do you want with that?” growled the carter, as he cracked his whip and was moving on.  A nod and a grim smile was the only answer he got.

On returning to the cab, our friend was joined by his companion, who said laughing, “I should have thought, Wright, you had enough business of your own to look after, without troubling yourself about other people’s horses and servants.”

Our friend stood still for a moment, and throwing his head a little back, “Do you know why this world is as bad as it is?”

“No,” said the other.

“Then I’ll tell you.  It is because people think only about their own business, and won’t trouble themselves to stand up for the oppressed, nor bring the wrong-doer to light.  I never see a wicked thing like this without doing what I can, and many a master has thanked me for letting him know how his horses have been used.”

“I wish there were more gentlemen like you, sir,” said Jerry, “for they are wanted badly enough in this city.”

CHAPTER XIV

POOR GINGER

One day, while our cab and many others were waiting outside one of the parks where music was playing, a shabby old cab drove up beside ours.  The horse was an old worn-out chestnut, with an ill-kept coat, and bones that showed plainly through it, the knees knuckled over, and the fore-legs were very unsteady.  I had been eating some hay, and the wind rolled a little lock of it that way, and the poor creature put out her long thin neck and picked it up, and then turned round and looked about for more.  There was a hopeless look in the dull eye that I could not help noticing, and then, as I was thinking where I had seen that horse before, she looked full at me and said, “Black Beauty, is that you?”

It was Ginger! but how changed!  The beautifully arched and glossy neck was now straight, and lank, and fallen in; the clean, straight legs and delicate fetlocks were swelled; the joints were grown out of shape with hard work; the face, that was once so full of spirit and life, was now full of suffering, and I could tell by the heaving of her sides, and her frequent cough, how bad her breath was.  Our drivers were standing together a little way off, so I sidled up to her a step or two, that we might have a little quiet talk.  It was a sad tale that she had to tell.

After a twelvemonth’s run off at Earlshall, she was considered to be fit for work again, and was sold to a gentleman.  For a little while she got on very well, but after a longer gallop than usual, the old strain returned, and after being rested and doctored she was again sold.  In this way she changed hands several times, but always getting lower down.

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