in a circle about its rope, as though it had been inclosed in a circus
ring. And the boy would slash away furiously, running along behind, his
teeth clenched in anger.

Then he would go away slowly, without turning round, while the horse
watched him disappear, his ribs sticking out, panting as a result of his
unusual exertions. Not until the blue blouse of the young peasant was
out of sight would he lower his thin white head to the grass.

As the nights were now warm, Coco was allowed to sleep out of doors, in
the field behind the little wood. Zidore alone went to see him. The boy
threw stones at him to amuse himself. He would sit down on an embankment
about ten feet away and would stay there about half an hour, from time
to time throwing a sharp stone at the old horse, which remained standing
tied before his enemy, watching him continually and not daring to eat
before he was gone.

This one thought persisted in the mind of the young scamp: "Why feed
this horse, which is no longer good for anything?" It seemed to him that
this old nag was stealing the food of the others, the goods of man and
God, that he was even robbing him, Zidore, who was working.

Then, little by little, each day, the boy began to shorten the length of
rope which allowed the horse to graze.

The hungry animal was growing thinner, and starving. Too feeble to
break his bonds, he would stretch his head out toward the tall, green,
tempting grass, so near that he could smell, and yet so far that he
could not touch it.

But one morning Zidore had an idea: it was, not to move Coco any more.
He was tired of walking so far for that old skeleton. He came, however,
in order to enjoy his vengeance. The beast watched him anxiously. He
did not beat him that day. He walked around him with his hands in his
pockets. He even pretended to change his place, but he sank the stake in
exactly the same hole, and went away overjoyed with his invention.

The horse, seeing him leave, neighed to call him back; but the rascal
began to run, leaving him alone, entirely alone in his field, well tied
down and without a blade of grass within reach.

Starving, he tried to reach the grass which he could touch with the end
of his nose. He got on his knees, stretching out his neck and his
long, drooling lips. All in vain. The old animal spent the whole day
in useless, terrible efforts. The sight of all that green food, which
stretched out on all sides of him, served to increase