Chapter XI: Cadichon Sick

My only employment next morning was to take the children riding an hour. James himself got me my oats, and in spite of Bouland’s warning, he gave me enough to feed three donkeys my size. I ate all that was given me; I was happy. But on the third day I felt sick, I had fever, and both head and stomach seemed affected; I could eat neither hay nor oats, but remained extended upon the straw.

“Here is Cadichon not up yet,” said James coming to see me. “Come, Cadichon, it is time to rise, I am going to give you your oats.”

I endeavored to rise but my head fell back heavily upon the straw.

“Oh! Cadichon is sick,” exclaimed little James, “Bouland, Bouland, come quick, Cadichon is sick!”

“How is that,” said Bouland, “he ate his breakfast this morning?”

Going up to the trough, Bouland looked in and said:

“He is sick, he has not touched his oats—his ears are warm,” added he, taking hold of my ears, “and his side beats.”

“What does that mean, Bouland?” exclaimed poor James, in great alarm.

“It means master James, that Cadichon has a fever, you have fed him too high, we must get the veterinary.”

“What is a veterinary?” asked James, still more alarmed.

“It is a horse doctor. You see, master James, I told you right. The poor beast suffered this winter from hunger and want of shelter, (you can tell by looking at him, see the color of his hair and how lean he is,) then he got very much heated running at the race. He ought to have had a few oats, and some grass to strengthen him, but you have given him just as many oats as he could eat.”

“Oh! my poor Cadichon! he is going to die, and it is my fault!” said James with a sob.

“No, master James, he is not going to die this time, but he must be bled and put out on grass.”

“Oh! but it will hurt so to bleed him,” said James, all in tears.

“Not this bleeding; you will see, for I am going to bleed him at once, whilst waiting for the veterinary.”

“I don’t want to see, I don’t want to see,” cried James, running away, “I am sure it will hurt him.”

Bouland took his lancet, placed it on a vein in my neck, struck it a slight blow with a hammer, and the blood gushed out immediately. As the blood flowed, I began to feel better, my head became less heavy, and I was relieved of oppression; I was soon able to rise. Bouland stopped the blood and gave me some bran water, and in about an hour led me into the field. I was better but not well, and nearly eight days elapsed before I entirely recovered. Meanwhile, James and Ruth loaded me with such kindness and attentions as I shall never forget. They came to see me several times a day; they gathered grass and held it up to my mouth, that I might be spared the trouble of bending my head to browse; they brought me garden salad, cabbage and carrots; every evening they led me into the stable themselves, to find the trough full of my favorite dainty, potato pickings with salt. One day, dear little James wanted to give me his pillow, because, he said, my head was too low when I slept. Another time Ruth wished to lend me her coverlet, to keep me warm at night, and again, they wrapped my legs with pieces of woolen stuff, for fear of my taking cold. I was distressed at not being able to express my gratitude, for I had the misfortune of understanding everything, without the power of uttering a word. I got well at last, and soon after my recovery, learned that James and Ruth with several of their cousins, were getting up a donkey party to the woods.