He's tryin' to eat that manger up right now,
and I bet it ain't good for him."
"Come on," said Penrod, closing the door that gave entrance to
the stalls. "We got to get this horse some drinkin'-water and
some good food."
They tried Whitey's appetite first with an autumnal branch that
they wrenched from a hardy maple in the yard. They had seen
horses nibble leaves, and they expected Whitey to nibble the
leaves of this branch; but his ravenous condition did not allow
him time for cool discriminations. Sam poked the branch at him
from the passageway, and Whitey, after one backward movement of
alarm, seized it venomously.
"Here! You stop that!" Sam shouted. "You stop that, you ole
horse, you!"
"What's the matter?" called Penrod from the hydrant, where he was
filling a bucket. "What's he doin' now?"
"Doin'! He's eatin' the wood part, too! He's chewin' up sticks as
big as baseball bats! He's crazy!"
Penrod rushed to see this sight, and stood aghast.
"Take it away from him, Sam!" he commanded sharply.
"Go on, take it away from him yourself!" was the prompt retort of
his comrade.
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