"Ye have no more gumption than a cow," he told the boy angrily. "Take her aisy, will ye? Remember her laig is sore, an' don't touch it as if ye were scrubbin' a brick floor." The boy dabbed at the swollen hock, and the mare kicked furiously and danced away on three legs and O'Mara uttered pungent comments. "That you, Miss Merle? Take care, now, an' keep back; that one'd kick the eye out of a mosquito, she's that bothered with this black omadhaun. 'Tis all I wish the boss hadn't gone before he helped me to do her; this boy's no good either to hould her or to bathe her. Whisht now, my beauty--no one's going to hurt you at all."
"Better keep back, sir. She's gentle enough, only she don't understand why she's hurt."
"Poor old girl!" said Dick gently. He went up to the mare's head, all his horse-loving soul eager to touch her. The wild eyes softened under his quiet hand. He stroked her nose, and then slid his fingers up quietly, rubbing her neck and talking to her under his breath. It was months since he had handled a horse, except the forbidden luxury of the milkman's pony. The very feel of the rippling muscles under the satin skin of her neck was a delight to him. He put his cheek against hers and the mare stopped trembling and muzzled against him. Dick looked up at O'Mara half shyly.
"Isn't she a beauty?" he said. "Seems a shame to hurt her."
"We'll try not to," said O'Mara happily. "Sure, 'tis yourself has the way with you, with a horse. Keep talkin' to her, now, and I'll do her hock that gentle she won't know she's touched."
He took the sponge from the black boy, who stood aside thankfully, and softly bathed the injured leg, keeping away from the hock at first, until she had grown used to his touch. The mare started a little when she felt the sponge, but Dick's caressing voice and fingers steadied her, and presently she stood quietly, only flinching when the sponge finally rested on the worst place.
"There now--'tis nice an' comfortin' against that hot place, isn't it, my beauty?" said O'Mara wheedlingly. "Begob, she'd say 'Thank you,' if she could spake. 'Is it kick?' says she. 'I'll not kick at all if only I'm treated like a lady,' she says. Divil a bit of vice have she in her, only she couldn't see why we'd want to hurt her, an' she havin' done no harrm to anny wan of us. Whist then, me jewel, let me hould it on ye just a wee bit now."