Then, little by little, each day, the boy began to shorten the length of rope which allowed the horse to graze.

The hungry animal was growing thinner, and starving.  Too feeble to break his bonds, he would stretch his head out toward the tall, green, tempting grass, so near that he could smell, and yet so far that he could not touch it.

But one morning Zidore had an idea:  it was, not to move Coco any more.  He was tired of walking so far for that old skeleton.  He came, however, in order to enjoy his vengeance.  The beast watched him anxiously.  He did not beat him that day.  He walked around him with his hands in his pockets.  He even pretended to change his place, but he sank the stake in exactly the same hole, and went away overjoyed with his invention.

The horse, seeing him leave, neighed to call him back; but the rascal began to run, leaving him alone, entirely alone in his field, well tied down and without a blade of grass within reach.

Starving, he tried to reach the grass which he could touch with the end of his nose.  He got on his knees, stretching out his neck and his long, drooling lips.  All in vain.  The old animal spent the whole day in useless, terrible efforts.  The sight of all that green food, which stretched out on all sides of him, served to increase the gnawing pangs of hunger.

The scamp did not return that day.  He wandered through the woods in search of nests.

The next day he appeared upon the scene again.  Coco, exhausted, had lain down.  When he saw the boy, he got up, expecting at last to have his place changed.

But the little peasant did not even touch the mallet, which was lying on the ground.  He came nearer, looked at the animal, threw at his head a clump of earth which flattened out against the white hair, and he started off again, whistling.

The horse remained standing as long as he could see him; then, knowing that his attempts to reach the near-by grass would be hopeless, he once more lay down on his side and closed his eyes.

The following day Zidore did not come.

When he did come at last, he found Coco still stretched out; he saw that he was dead.

Then he remained standing, looking at him, pleased with what he had done, surprised that it should already be all over.  He touched him with his foot, lifted one of his legs and then let it drop, sat on him and remained there, his eyes fixed on the grass, thinking of nothing.  He returned to the farm, but did not mention the accident, because he wished to wander about at the hours when he used to change the horse’s pasture.  He went to see him the next day.  At his approach some crows flew away.  Countless flies were walking over the body and were buzzing around it.  When he returned home, he announced the event.  The animal was so old that nobody was surprised.  The master said to two of the men: 

“Take your shovels and dig a hole right where he is.”