"Kick! You couldn't kick if you tried. You might heave your rump
up half a foot, but for lashing out--oho! If you did, you'd be
down on your belly before you could get your legs under you again.
It's my belief, once out, they'd stick out for ever. Talk of kicking!
Why don't you put one foot before the other now and then when you're
in the cab? The abuse master gets for your sake is quite shameful.
No decent horse would bring it on him. Depend upon it, Ruby, no cabman
likes to be abused any more than his fare. But his fares, at least
when you are between the shafts, are very much to be excused.
Indeed they are."

"Well, you see, Diamond, I don't want to go lame again."

"I don't believe you were so very lame after all--there!"

"Oh, but I was."

"Then I believe it was all your own fault. I'm not lame.
I never was lame in all my life. You don't take care of your legs.
You never lay them down at night. There you are with your huge carcass
crushing down your poor legs all night long. You don't even care
for your own legs--so long as you can eat, eat, and sleep, sleep.
You a horse indeed!"

"But I tell you I was lame."

"I'm not denying there was a puffy look about your off-pastern.
But my belief is, it wasn't even grease--it was fat."

"I tell you I put my foot on one of those horrid stones they make