It led to an enclosure containing a
small pen, in which were confined three handsome steers, whose glossy,
black coats contrasted in a very striking manner with their long,
greyish-white, nearly straight horns.
"These are certainly very fine beasts, Mr. Felton," said Thorndyke, as
we drew up beside the pen, "and in excellent condition, too."
He leaned over the pen and examined the beasts critically, especially as
to their eyes and horns; then, approaching the nearest one, he raised
his stick and bestowed a smart tap on the under-side of the right horn,
following it by a similar tap on the left one, a proceeding that the
beast viewed with stolid surprise.
"The state of the horns," explained Thorndyke, as he moved on to the
next steer, "enables one to judge, to some extent, of the beast's
health."
"Lord bless you, sir," laughed Mr. Felton, "they haven't got no feeling
in their horns, else what good 'ud their horns be to 'em?"
Apparently he was right, for the second steer was as indifferent to a
sounding rap on either horn as the first. Nevertheless, when Thorndyke
approached the third steer, I unconsciously drew nearer to watch; and I
noticed that, as the stick struck the horn, the beast drew back in
evident alarm, and that when the blow was repeated, it became manifestly
uneasy.
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