I was sold to a baker who Jerry knew，but the baker's bearing rein up．This made it difficult for me to pull a heavy cart，and I found the work very hard．

　　One day，after three or four months of this，I was pulling the cart，which was much heavier than usual，up a steep hill．I had to stop several times to rest，which didn't please Jakes．

　　'Move on， you lazy horse， or I'll make you！'he shouted，and he hit me with his whip．

　　After a few more metres，I had to stop again．The whip came down across my back once more and the pain was sharp．I was doing my best but the driver was still punishing me cruelly，which seemed very unfair．

　　Jakes was whipping me a third time when a woman hurried over and said，'Oh，please don't whip your horse like that． I think I can help，if you'll let me．'

　　Jakes laughed．'Oh？'

　　'He can't use all his strength when his head is held back with that bearing rein，'the woman went on．'If you take it off，I'm sure he'll do better．'

　　'Anything to please a lady，'said Jakes，smiling．

　　The rein was taken off and I moved my head up and down several times to help my aching neck．

　　'Poor boy，is that what you wanted？'said the woman， pat-ting me．She turned to Jakes．'If you speak to him kindly and lead him on，I believe he'll do better．'

　　Jakes took the rein，and I put down my head and moved on．I pulled the cart up the hill， then stopped to take a breath．

　　'Well， that helped，' said Jakes，'but if I went without a bearing rein all the time，the other cart drivers would laugh at me．It's fashionable，you see．'

　　'It's better to start a good fashion than to follow a bad one，'said the woman．'Many gentlemen don't use bearing reins now．'

　　She gave me another pat on the neck and walked on．

　　After that，Jakes always took off my bearing rein when I was going up a hill，and that made my life easier．But pulling heavy carts day after day slowly began to exhaust me and a younger horse was brought in to do my work．

* * *

　　I was sold to another cab owner whose name was Nicholas Skinner．He was hard on his drivers，and they were hard on the horses．We worked long hours，had no Sunday rest，and it was a hot summer．

　　My driver was just as hard as his master，and he had a cruel whip with something sharp at the end which often cut me and made me bleed．It was a terrible life，and sometimes，like poor Ginger，I wished I was dead．

　　One day I nearly got my wish�............