One day he had worked me hard in every way he could, and when I lay down I was tired, and miserable, and angry; it all seemed so hard. The next morning he came for me early, and ran me round again for a long time. I had scarcely had an hour's rest, when he came again for me with a saddle and bridle and a new kind of bit.
I could never quite tell how it came about; he had only just mounted me on the training ground, when something I did put him out of temper,
and he chucked me hard with the rein. The new bit was very painful, and I reared up suddenly, which angered him still more, and he began
to flog me.
I felt my whole spirit set against him, and I began to kick, and plunge, and rear as I had never done before, and we had a regular fight;
for a long time he stuck to the saddle and punished me cruelly with his whip and spurs, but my blood was thoroughly up, and I cared for nothing he could do if only I could get him off.
At last after a terrible struggle I threw him off backward.
I heard him fall heavily on the turf, and without looking behind me, I galloped off to the other end of the field; there I turned round and saw my persecutor slowly rising from the ground and going into the stable.
I stood under an oak tree and watched, but no one came to catch me.
The time went on, and the sun was very hot; the flies swarmed round me and settled on my bleeding flanks where the spurs had dug in. I felt hungry, for I had not eaten since the early morning, but there was not enough grass in that meadow for a goose to live on.
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