course that s life and death to you. Get round with your hind legs under
you the instant you feel the rein on your neck. If you haven t room to
swing round, rear up a little and come round on your hind legs. That s
being bridle-wise.
We aren t taught that way, said Billy the mule stiffly. We re taught
to obey the man at our head: step off when he says so, and step in when
he says so. I suppose it comes to the same thing. Now, with all this
fine fancy business and rearing, which must be very bad for your hocks,
what do you do?
That depends, said the troop-horse. Generally I have to go in among a
lot of yelling, hairy men with knives--long shiny knives, worse than
the farrier s knives--and I have to take care that Dick s boot is just
touching the next man s boot without crushing it. I can see Dick s lance
to the right of my right eye, and I know I m safe. I shouldn t care to
be the man or horse that stood up to Dick and me when we re in a hurry.
Don t the knives hurt? said the young mule.
Well, I got one cut across the chest once, but that wasn t Dick s
fault--
A lot I should have cared whose fault it was, if it hurt! said the
young mule.
You must, said the troop horse. If you don t trust your man, you may
as well run away at once. That s what some of our horses do, and I don t
blame them. As I was saying, it wasn t Dick s fault. The man was lying
on the ground, and I stretched myself not to tread on him, and he
slashed up at me. Next time I have to go over a man lying down I shall
step on him--hard.
H m! said Billy. It sounds very foolish. Knives are dirty things
at any time. The proper thing to do is to climb up a mountain with a
well-balanced saddle, hang on by all four feet and your ears too, and
creep and crawl and wriggle along, till you come out hundreds of feet
above anyone else on a ledge where there s just room enough for your
hoofs. Then you stand still and keep quiet--never ask a man to hold your
head, young un--keep quiet while the guns are being put together, and
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