I will try
to make it clear. The soul of the Regiment lives in the Drum-Horse, who carries
the silver kettle-drums. He is nearly always a big piebald Waler. That is a
point of honor; and a Regiment will spend anything you please on a piebald. He
is beyond the ordinary laws of casting. His work is very light, and he only
manoeuvres at a foot-pace. Wherefore, so long as he can step out and look
handsome, his well-being is assured. He knows more about the Regiment than the
Adjutant, and could not make a mistake if he tried.
The Drum-Horse of the White Hussars was only eighteen years old, and perfectly
equal to his duties. He had at least six years' more work in him, and carried
himself with all the pomp and dignity of a Drum-Major of the Guards. The
Regiment had paid Rs. 1,200 for him.
But the Colonel said that he must go, and he was cast in due form and replaced
by a washy, bay beast as ugly as a mule, with a ewe-neck, rat-tail, and cow-
hocks. The Drummer detested that animal, and the best of the Band-horses put
back their ears and showed the whites of their eyes at the very sight of him.
They knew him for an upstart and no gentleman. I fancy that the Colonel's ideas
of smartness extended to the Band, and that he wanted to make it take part in
the regular parade movements.
Pages:
737
738
739
740
741
742
743
744
745
746
747
748
749
750
751
752
753
754
755
756
757
758
759
760
761