The piebald pulled at the halter, and out of sheer ennui tried to bite it, but it was too far off. He sighed, and closed his eyes. He hung down his lip, showing his worn yellow teeth, and began to drowse, lulled by the sound of the knife on the stone. Only his sick and swollen leg trembled a little.
Suddenly he perceived that he was grasped by the lower jaw, and that his head was lifted up. He opened his eyes. Two dogs were in front of him. One was snuffing in the direction of the scavenger, the other sat looking at the gelding as though expecting something especially from him. The gelding looked at them, and began to rub his jaw against the hand that held him.
“Of course they want to cure me,” he said: “let it come!”
And the thought had hardly passed through his mind, before they did something to his throat. It hurt him; he started back, stamped his foot, but restrained himself, and waited for what was to follow. … What followed, was some liquid pouring in a stream down his neck and breast. He drew a deep breath, lifting his sides. And it seemed easier, much easier, to him.
The whole burden of his life was taken from him.
He closed his eyes, and began to droop his head—no one held it. Then his legs quivered, his whole body swayed. He was not so much terrified as he was astonished. …
Everything was so new. He was astonished; he tried to run ahead, up the hill, … but instead of this, his legs, moving where he stood, interfered. He began to roll over on his side, and while expecting to make a step he fell forward, and on his left side.
The scavenger waited till the death-struggle was over, drove away the dogs that were creeping nearer, and then seized the horse by the legs,