Chapter 40: Poor Ginger
I said, "You used to stand up for yourself if you were ill-used."
"Ah!" she said, "I did once, but it's no use; men are strongest,
and if they are cruel and have no feeling, there is nothing that we can do,
but just bear it -- bear it on and on to the end. I wish the end was come,
I wish I was dead. I have seen dead horses, and I am sure they do not
suffer pain; I wish I may drop down dead at my work, and not be sent off
to the knackers."
I was very much troubled, and I put my nose up to hers,
but I could say nothing to comfort her. I think she was pleased to see me,
for she said, "You are the only friend I ever had."
Just then her driver came up, and with a tug at her mouth backed her
out of the line and drove off, leaving me very sad indeed.
A short time after this a cart with a dead horse in it passed our cab-stand.
The head hung out of the cart-tail, the lifeless tongue was slowly
dropping with blood; and the sunken eyes! but I can't speak of them,
the sight was too dreadful. It was a chestnut horse with a long, thin neck.
I saw a white streak down the forehead. I believe it was Ginger;
I hoped it was, for then her troubles would be over. Oh! if men were
more merciful they would shoot us before we came to such misery.