The third brother also rode over to the threshing-floor and around the park, and then along through the village, and then he came galloping down the hill toward the stable.
When he rode up to us, Voronok was winded, and his neck and flanks were black with sweat.
When my turn came, I wanted to surprise my brothers, and show them how well I could ride, an-d I began to spur him on to his utmost speed; but Voronok would not stir from the stable.
In spite of my redoubled blows he would not gallop, but only shied and backed. I grew angry with the horse, and pounded him with all my might with my whip and legs. I tried lashing him in the places where he was tenderest; I broke the whip, and with the broken handle I began to pound him on the head. But still Voronok would not budge.
Then I turned around, rode up to our tutor, and asked him for a heavier whip. But the tutor said to me:—
"You have ridden him enough, sir; come down. Why torture the horse?"
I was vexed, and said:—
"Why? I have not ridden him at all! Look how I will make him gallop! Please give me a stronger whip! I will warm him up!"
Then the tutor shook his head, and said:—
" Ah, sir! you have no mercy. Why warm him up? Just think! He is twenty years old. The horse is tired out; he is all winded; yes, and he is so old! Just think how old he is! It is just as if it were Pimen Timofeïftch. If you should mount on Timofeïtch, and should whip him with all your might, say, now, would not that be a pity?"
I knew well about Pimen, and I obeyed the tutor. I dismounted from the horse, and when I saw how he was laboring with his sweaty sides, and was puffing with his nostrils, and was switching his thin tail, then I realized how cruel we had been to the horse. But till that time I had supposed that the horse enjoyed it as much as I did.
