My new master, Mr Barry, was a busy businessman in Bath. His doctor had told him to ride for his health, so he bought me. He knew very little about horses, but he treated me well. He rented a stable, hired a groom called Filcher, and ordered the best hay with plenty of oats. I heard him give the order, so I thought I was well off.
Filcher kept the stable clean and was always gentle. He also grew vegetables for the market, and his wife kept rabbits. But there were fewer and fewer oats in my food, and in a few weeks I began to lose my strength and spirit. I could not complain or tell anyone what I needed. This went on for about two months.
One afternoon my master rode out to see a friend, a gentleman farmer with a very quick eye for horses.
“Barry, your horse doesn’t look as well as when you first had him,” said the farmer. “Has he been ill?”
“No, but he is not nearly so lively. My groom says horses are always dull and weak in the autumn.”
“Autumn, nonsense! It is only August! With light work and good food, he shouldn’t go down like this.” He felt me over and shook his head. “I can’t say who eats your oats, my dear fellow, but I don’t think your horse gets them. There are people mean enough to rob a dumb animal of his food. You must look into it.” And he told his man to give me a really good feed of oats.
Dumb animals! Yes, we are. But if I could have spoken, I could have told my master where his oats went. Every morning at about six o’clock Filcher came with his little boy, who always carried a basket with a lid. I could see them fill a small bag with oats, and then the boy went off with it.
Five or six mornings later, just after the boy had left, a policeman came in, holding the child tightly by the arm.
“Show me where your father keeps his rabbits’ food,” he said.
The boy began to cry, but there was no escape, and he led the way to the oats. There the policeman found an empty bag, just like the full one in the boy’s basket.
Filcher was cleaning my feet at the time. He argued loudly, but the police took him away. Later I heard that the boy was not found guilty, but Filcher was sent to prison for two months.