“Yes,” said the judges, “it is a very good rope.  Let it be as it is.”

Now, on the hill-side above the village, there lived a man who had once been a brave knight.  In his youth he had ridden through many lands, and he had fought in many a battle.  His best friend through all that time had been his horse,—­a strong, noble steed that had borne him safe through many a danger.

But the knight, when he grew older, cared no more to ride into battle; he cared no more to do brave deeds; he thought of nothing but gold; he became a miser.  At last he sold all that he had, except his horse, and went to live in a little hut on the hill-side.  Day after day he sat among his money bags, and planned how he might get more gold; and day after day his horse stood in his bare stall, half-starved, and shiv-er-ing with cold.

“What is the use of keeping that lazy steed?” said the miser to himself one morning.  “Every week it costs me more to keep him than he is worth.  I might sell him; but there is not a man that wants him.  I cannot even give him away.  I will turn him out to shift for himself, and pick grass by the roadside.  If he starves to death, so much the better.”

So the brave old horse was turned out to find what he could among the rocks on the barren hill-side.  Lame and sick, he strolled along the dusty roads, glad to find a blade of grass or a thistle.  The boys threw stones at him, the dogs barked at him, and in all the world there was no one to pity him.

One hot afternoon, when no one was upon the street, the horse chanced to wander into the market place.  Not a man nor child was there, for the heat of the sun had driven them all indoors.  The gates were wide open; the poor beast could roam where he pleased.  He saw the grape-vine rope that hung from the bell of justice.  The leaves and tendrils upon it were still fresh and green, for it had not been there long.  What a fine dinner they would be for a starving horse!

He stretched his thin neck, and took one of the tempting morsels in his mouth.  It was hard to break it from the vine.  He pulled at it, and the great bell above him began to ring.  All the people in Atri heard it.  It seemed to say,—­

“Some one has done me wrong! 
 Some one has done me wrong! 
 Oh! come and judge my case! 
 Oh! come and judge my case! 
 For I’ve been wronged!”

The judges heard it.  They put on their robes, and went out through the hot streets to the market place.  They wondered who it could be who would ring the bell at such a time.  When they passed through the gate, they saw the old horse nibbling at the vine.

“Ha!” cried one, “it is the miser’s steed.  He has come to call for justice; for his master, as everybody knows, has treated him most shame-ful-ly.”

“He pleads his cause as well as any dumb brute can,” said another.

“And he shall have justice!” said the third.