pector's
monthly visit.

"Old Silver, eh?" said he. "Well, I've been looking for him to give out.
That's a bad leg there, a very bad leg. Send him up to the hospital in
the morning, and I'll have another gray down here. It's time you had a
new horse in his place."

Lannigan stepped forward to protest. It was only a milk leg. He had
cured such before. He could cure this one. Besides, he couldn't spare
Silver, the best horse on his team.

But the inspector often heard such pleas.

"You drivers," said he, "would keep a horse going until he dropped
through the collar. To hear you talk anyone would think there wasn't
another horse in the Department. What do you care so long as you get
another gray?"

Very much did Lannigan care, but he found difficulty in putting his
sentiments into words. Besides, of what use was it to talk to a blind
fool who could say that one gray horse was as good as another. Hence
Lannigan only looked sheepish and kept his tongue between his teeth
until the door closed behind the inspector. Then he banged a ham-like
fist into a broad palm and relieved his feelings in language both
forceful and picturesque. This failed to mend matters, so Lannigan,
putting an arm around the old gray's neck, told Silver all about it.
Probably Silver misunderstood, for he responded by reaching over
Lannigan's shoulder and chewing the big man's leather belt. Only when
Lannigan fed to him six red apples and an extra quart of oats did Silver
mistrust that something unusual was going to happen. Next morning, sure
enough, it did happen.

Some say Lannigan wept. As to that none might be sure, for he sat facing
the wall in a corner of the bunk-room. No misunderstanding could there
have been about his remarks, muttered though they were. They were
uncomplimentary to all veterinary inspectors in general, and most
pointedly uncomplimentary to one in particular. Below they were leading
Old Silver away to the hospital.

Perhaps it was that Silver's milk leg was stubborn in yielding to
treatment. Perhaps the folks at the horse hospital deemed it unwise to
spend time and effort on a horse of his age. At any rate, after less
than a week's stay, he was cast into oblivion. They took away the leaden
number medal, which for more than ten years he had worn on a strap
around his neck, and they turned him over to a sales-stable as
carelessly as a battalion chief would toss away a half-smoked cigar.

Now a sales-stable is a place wher