This was the
spectacle of three horses, of fair quality, feeding in a field of
growing corn, which was the only enclosure near the inn. They
were trampling and spoiling more than they ate; and, supposing
that they had strayed into the place, and the house showing no
signs of life, I bade my grooms fetch them out. The sun was
about setting, and I stood a moment watching the long shadows of
the men as they plodded through the corn, and the attitudes of
the horses as, with heads raised, they looked doubtfully at the
newcomers.
Suddenly a man came round the corner of the house, and seeing us,
and what my men were doing, began to gesticulate violently, but
without sound. The grooms saw him too, and stood; and he ran up
to my stirrup, his face flushed and sullen.
"Do you want to see us all ruined?" he muttered. And he begged
me to call my men out of the corn.
"You are more likely to be ruined that way," I answered, looking
down at him. "Why, man, is it the custom in your country to turn
horses into the half-ripe corn?"
He shook his fist stealthily.
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