"He does not look old, and is apparently a sound horse," said Nekhlyúdov. "Catch him, and show me his teeth! I will find out if he is old."
"It is impossible for one person to catch him, 'r Grace. The whole beast is not worth a penny. He has a temper: he bites and kicks, 'r Grace," answered Yukhvánka, smiling merrily, and turning his eyes in all directions.
"What nonsense! Catch him, I tell you!"
Yukhvánka smiled for a long time, and shuffled his feet, and not until Nekhlyúdov cried out in anger, "Well, will you?" did he run under the shed and bring a halter. He began to run after the horse, frightening him, and walking up to him from behind, and not in front.
The young master was evidently disgusted, and, no doubt, wanted to show his agility. "Give me the halter!" he said.
"I pray, 'r Grace! How can you? —"
But Nekhlyúdov walked up to the horse's head and, suddenly taking hold of his ears, bent it down with such a force that the gelding, who, as could be seen, was a very gentle peasant horse, tottered and groaned, in his attempt to tear himself away. When Nekhlyúdov noticed that it was unnecessary to use such force, and when he glanced at Yukhvánka, who did not cease smiling, the thought, so offensive at his years, occurred to him that Yukhvánka was making fun of him and mentally regarding him as a child. He blushed, let the horse go, and without the help of a halter opened his mouth and examined his teeth: the teeth were sound, the crowns full, and the young proprietor was enough informed to know that all this meant that the horse was young.
Yukhvánka, in the meantime, had gone under the shed, and, noticing that the harrow was not in place, he lifted it and put it on edge against the fence.
"Come here!" cried the master, with an expression of
