ulous horizon. He saw none
of these things, I say, but he saw something else which did not please
him at all.

"I say, Joska, the right leader is limping."

"Yes, it certainly is," replied the coachman.

"Get down and see what's the matter."

The coachman got down, lifted the horse's leg, brushed away the dust
from around the hoof and said with the air of a connoisseur: "This
horse's hoof has been pricked."

"What the devil...!" rang out Mr. Gerzson, but there he stopped, for
it is not becoming to curse and swear when a lady is in the carriage
behind you, even if she does not hear.

Meanwhile the coachman mounted up beside him and they drove on again.

"Well we cannot drive that horse much further," grumbled Mr. Gerzson,
"the other three must pull the carriage. At Csongrad we must get another
to take its place and leave it behind there."

A long discussion thereupon ensued between him and the coachman as to
the clumsiness of smiths in general, who when they pare away a horse's
hoofs in order to shoe it, so often cut into the living flesh, which is
very dangerous, and is technically known as "pricking."

They had scarce proceeded for more than another half hour when Mr.
Gerzson again began to cast suspicious glances down from the box-seat.

"I say, Joska," he cried at last, "it seems to me the left leader, the
whip horse, is also limping."

Down leaped the coachman, examined the horse's foot and pronounced that
the hoof of the left leader had also been pricked.

"Devil take...!" cried Mr. Gerzson, but once more he did not
enlighten the devil as to the particular individual he was desirous of
drawing his attention to.

"Well, I suppose we must go on as best we can with two horses now, for
the first two are good for nothing." And in the spirit of a true driver
he stuck his whip beneath him, as being a thing for which there was now
no further use, and resumed his argument with the coachman about the
inefficiency of smiths in general.

"As soon as we reach Oroshaza, we'll get two fresh horses; we ought to
be getting there now."

Yet the steeple of Oroshaza was, as yet, scarcely visible and midday was
already approaching. There was no intermediate station where they could
change horses.

Half an hour later Mr. Gerzson dashed his clay pipe against the wheel of
the coach and swore that he would be damned if ever such a silly-fool
thing had ever befallen him before, for now the thill horse also began
to limp