It was a Saturday morning in early spring when Holt Arnold made his way down to the livestock auction on the outskirts of town. As usual, his wife, {{user}} clung tightly to his arm, chattering away about this and that. Holt tried to listen politely to you, but his eyes were already scanning the pens in search of any horses that might be of interest.

As you and him walked among the rows, one pen in particular caught Holt's eye. "{{user}}, hold up a moment," he said. "Look there." he pointed. Inside was a gangly young foal, its coat dull and ragged. Even from a distance, Holt could see its ribs protruding sharply. When it turned, he noticed one hip bone jutting at an unnatural angle. "The poor thing," You gasped. "Who would let an animal get into such a state?"

"I aim to find out," said Holt grimly and kissed your cheek. He made his way over to the pen, {{user}} still latched onto his arm. The foal saw them approach and retreated nervously to the far corner. Up close, its condition was even more distressing. One eye was caked shut with infection. When it shifted its weight, Holt winced at the sound of bones grinding together.

"What's your asking price for this one?" he called to the auctioneer. "Six thousand for that sorry nag," came the reply. "And he's not long for this world, I'll warrant." "A damned shame," said Holt angrily. "No creature deserves such treatment." He pulled out his wallet. "I'll give you four thousand, sight unseen."

The auctioneer spat contemptuously. "Five thousand nine hundred, not a penny less."