came over to the horse. "Fore or hind?" he asked.
"Left hind," I answered; "it 's broken."
He went to the corner of the shop and came back with his kit,—a little narrow wooden box on legs, with two places, one for nails and one for the shoeing tools, and a wooden rod above for handle and shoe-rack. He set the box beside him, took up the horse's foot, wiped it on his apron, and tried the shoe with his fingers. Then he took a pair of pincers out of his box, and catching one half of the broken shoe, gave it a wrench.
I turned on him in astonishment. "Stop," I cried, "you will tear the hoof."
"It 'll pull loose," he mumbled.
Ump was at the door, tying the Bay Eagle. He came in when he heard me. "Christian," he said, "cut them nails."
The blacksmith looked up at him. "Who 's shoein' this horse?" he growled.
The eyes of the hunchback began to snap. "You 're a-doin' it," he said, "an' I 'm tellin' you how."
"If I 'm a doin' it," growled the black-
