Mr.Wood seemed to be washing a sore in the horse's mouth.

Pacer winced a little, and Mr.Wood said: "Steady, steady, my beauty; 'twill soon be over." The horse fixed his intelligent eyes on his master and looked as if he knew that he was trying to do him good.
"Just look at these lips, Joe," said Mr.Wood "delicate and fine like our own, and yet there are brutes that will jerk them as if they were made of iron.

I wish the Lord would give horses voices just for one week.

I tell you they'd scare some of us.

Now, Pacer, that's over.