The little stiff tail seemed to have been fitted in for a heartless joke; and at the other end the thin, flat neck, like a plank covered with old horse-hide, drooped to the ground under the weight of an enormous bony head.

The ears hung at different angles, negligently; and the macabre figure of that mute dweller on the earth steamed straight up from ribs and backbone in the muggy stillness of the air.
The cabman struck lightly Stevie's breast with the iron hook protruding from a ragged, greasy sleeve.
"Look 'ere, young feller.

'Ow'd _you_ like to sit behind this 'oss up to two o'clock in the morning p'raps ?" Stevie looked vacantly into the fierce little eyes with red-edged lids.
"He ain't lame," pursued the other, whispering with energy.

"He ain't got no sore places on 'im.

'Ere he is.