turned him into a hoss, an' rode him all over the hills an' valleys until he was about done fer, an' then fetched him back, an' ev'ry morning when he woke up he was a boy ag'in, an' was lame an' sore an' had a headache an' was sorry that he ever see the witch. He grew poor an' spindlin', an' he'd lay awake night after night to keep the witch away. But o' course he had to go to sleep some time, an' the minute he forgot himself she'd slip in an' put on the bridle an' away they'd go. An' he grew poorer an' poorer an' less an' less like a boy, an' more an' more like an animal. By an' by, he got used to bein' a hoss an' loved to go up in the air an' hadn't any more heart in him than my ol' mare.
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