“No,” said Robert slowly.  “I never thought of it before.  It does seem hard that they shouldn’t have a vacation sometimes.”

“It seems hard that they cannot be sure of a rest on Sunday, at least,” said Mr. Spencer.  “Some horses work all the week, and are then driven for miles on Sunday.”

“Yes,” said Robert.  “We often see tired horses taking heavy wagonloads of people to the beach.”

“Horses need to rest one day in seven,” said Mr. Spencer.  “When horse-cars were used in New York, it was found that no horse could do good work unless he had a day of rest once a week.  A horse is not a machine.  He suffers just as we do with hunger, thirst, and fatigue.  Sometimes he needs a dentist or a doctor, just as we do.”

As Mr. Spencer talked he was walking toward the white horse under the tree.  The horse got up stiffly and slowly, and rubbed his nose against Mr. Spencer’s shoulder.

“Oh, what a wretched-looking old horse!” said Robert.  “He doesn’t belong to you, does he?”

Mr. Spencer patted the horse’s neck and gave him a few lumps of sugar.

“This horse isn’t old,” he said, “but he is worn out with hard work and abuse.  He doesn’t look like my other horses, does he?”

“No, indeed!” said Robert.  “How did you happen to own him?”

“A few years ago,” said Mr. Spencer, “he was a fine young horse.  He belonged to a man I knew who thought little of the comfort of the animals in his care.  I doubt very much if this poor horse ever wore a blanket in cold weather, and I know that many a time a frosty bit was put into his mouth.”

“Does a bit need to be warmed?” asked Robert.

“Oh, no!” said Mr. Spencer.  “If it is held in cold water a few minutes the frost will come out of it, and there will be no danger of making the horse’s mouth sore.  The owner of this horse would never have taken the trouble to do that.  His one thought was to be in the fashion.  So he had poor Whitey’s coat clipped, bought a curb-bit for him, and cut off his long tail.”

“What a cruel man!” said Robert warmly.

“There are many others like him,” said Mr. Spencer.  “They do not see how helpless a horse is when his head is drawn back with an over-check or hurt by a curb-bit and when he has no chance to drive away the flies that torment him.  To cut off a horse’s tail not only hurts him very much at the time, but makes him miserable afterwards.”

“If I were a horse and were treated like that, I’d run away,” said Robert.

“That is just what old Whitey did,” said Mr. Spencer.  “He ran away.  Then his owner sold him to a grocer.”

“Our grocer is very good to his horses,” said Robert.  “I hope this one was, too.”

“No,” said Mr. Spencer.  “Poor Whitey grew more and more miserable.  The boys who drove the wagon whipped him and teased him.  They cared little whether or not he had a good dinner, and water to drink, and time to rest at noon.  At night they often forgot to rub him down, and sometimes, after a long, hard day’s work, he went without his supper.”