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The lean, gray-haired man who had ushered them into the stable stood eyeing the mare’s distended sides. "I’d say, young fellow, you didn’t git her here a mite too soon, no, siree. She’s due right quick. Carryin’ a blood foal, I’m thinkin’—" "Yes. How soon? Tonight?" Tobe Kells made a quick examination. The mare, after a first nervous start, stood easy under his sure and gentle hands. "Late, maybe.
On they came; the chorus of their fear swelled like the voice of a mighty cataract, the pound, pound, pound of their hoofs ringing like mighty sledge-hammers. Suddenly he felt himself sinking, horribly, irresistibly. "God! What is it?" as his horse went down with her foreleg in a gopher-hole. "Up, up, you damned brute!" but the mare’s leg had cracked like a pipe-stem.
To give the bit its most powerful action it should be placed so low as only just to clear the tusks in a horse’s mouth, and to be one inch above the corner teeth in a mare’s mouth.
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