We Had To Pass Three
Long Picket Lines Of Horses And Almost Two Hundred Troopers, Every One
Of Whom Stared At Me With Both Eyes.
It was embarrassing, of course,
but I was glad to let the whole line of them see that I was capable of
managing my own horse, which was still very frisky.
I knew very well,
too, that the sergeant's angry roar when he asked, "Who bridled this
horse?" had been heard by many of them. Our ride was very delightful
after all its exciting beginning, and we are going again to morrow
morning. I want to let those troopers see that I am not afraid to ride
the horse they selected for me.
I shall be so glad when Hal is large enough to go with me. He is
growing fast, but at present seems to be mostly legs. He is devoted to
me, but I regret to say that he and our old soldier cook are not the
dearest friends. Findlay is so stupid he cannot appreciate the cunning
things the little dog does. Hal is fed mush and milk only until he
gets his second teeth, and consequently he is wild about meat. The
odor of a broiling beefsteak the other day was more than he could
resist, so he managed to get his freedom by slipping his collar over
his head, and rushing into the kitchen, snatched the sizzling steak
and was out again before Findlay could collect his few wits, and get
across the room to stop him. The meat was so hot it burned his mouth,
and he howled from the pain, but drop it he did not until he was far
from the cook. This I consider very plucky in so young a dog! Findlay
ran after the little hound, yelling and swearing, and I ran after
Findlay to keep him from beating my dog. Of course we did not have
beefsteak that day, but, as I told Faye, it was entirely Findlay's
fault. He should have kept watch of things, and not made it possible
for Hal to kill himself by eating a whole big steak!
Yesterday, Lieutenant Golden came in to luncheon, and when we went in
the dining room I saw at once that things were wrong, very wrong. A
polished table is an unknown luxury down here, but fresh table linen
we do endeavor to have. But the cloth on the table yesterday was a
sight to behold, with big spots of dirt all along one side and dirt on
top. Findlay came in the room just as I reached the table, and I said,
"Findlay, what has happened here?" He gave one look at the cloth where
I pointed, and then striking his knuckles together, almost sobbed out,
"Dot tamn dog, mum!" Faye and Lieutenant Golden quickly left the room
to avoid hearing any more remarks of that kind, for it was really very
dreadful in Findlay to use such language. This left me alone, of
course, to pacify the cook, which I found no easy task.
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