"He don't seem to like that," said the butcher. "Seems as if--Hullo,
that's queer!"
Thorndyke had just brought his stick up against the left horn, and
immediately the beast had winced and started back, shaking his head and
moaning. There was not, however, room for him to back out of reach, and
Thorndyke, by leaning into the pen, was able to inspect the sensitive
horn, which he did with the closest attention, while the butcher looked
on with obvious perturbation.
"You don't think there's anything wrong with this beast, sir, I hope,"
said he.
"I can't say without a further examination," replied Thorndyke. "It may
be the horn only that is affected. If you will have it sawn off close to
the head, and sent up to me at the hotel, I will look at it and tell
you. And, by way of preventing any mistakes, I will mark it and cover it
up, to protect it from injury in the slaughter-house."
He opened his parcel and produced from it a wide-mouthed bottle labelled
"Ox-gall," a sheet of gutta-percha tissue, a roller bandage, and a stick
of sealing-wax. Handing the bottle to Mr. Felton, he encased the distal
half of the horn in a covering by means of the tissue and the bandage,
which he fixed securely with the sealing-wax.
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