“There’s where the trouble is,” he decided; “he must have strained a tendon, though I don’t feel any difference.”
With infinite care and tenderness Alden fondled the limb, and ’Ceph showed his appreciation by touching his nose to his shoulders as he bent over his task. The youth increased the pressure and rubbed more briskly. The action seemed to give relief, and by and by the pony set the hoof down on the ground and stood evenly on his four legs.
Hoping that the trouble had passed, Alden walked backward a few steps and called upon ’Ceph to follow. He obeyed and stepped off without the slightest evidence of trouble. The rider’s hopes rose higher.
“If you will lead I’ll be glad to follow; it won’t do—”
His heart sank, for hardly half a dozen steps were taken when ’Ceph limped again: the halt grew more pronounced, and suddenly he hobbled one or two steps on three legs, holding the remaining hoof clear of the ground as he did so.
“That settles it,” said his master; “you may be able to reach the station without any load by resting often, but it will be hard work.”
