A Horse's Tale

“Brick? She’s more than a brick, more than a thousand bricks– she’s a reptile!”

“It’s a compliment out of your heart, Shekels. God bless you for it!”

Chapter X. General Alison And Dorcas

“Too much company for her, Marse Tom. Betwixt you, and Shekels, the Colonel’s wife, and the Cid—”

“The Cid? Oh, I remember – the raven.”

“—and Mrs. Captain Marsh and Famine and Pestilence the baby coyotes, and Sour-Mash and her pups, and Sardanapalus and her kittens – hang these names she gives the creatures, they warp my jaw – and Potter: you – all sitting around in the house, and Soldier Boy at the window the entire time, it’s a wonder to me she comes along as well as she does. She—”

“You want her all to yourself, you stingy old thing!”

“Marse Tom, you know better. It’s too much company. And then the idea of her receiving reports all the time from her officers, and acting upon them, and giving orders, the same as if she was well! It ain’t good for her, and the surgeon don’t like it, and tried to persuade her not to and couldn’t; and when he ordered her, she was that outraged and indignant, and was very severe on him, and accused him of insubordination, and said it didn’t become him to give orders to an officer of her rank. Well, he saw he had excited her more and done more harm than all the rest put together, so he was vexed at himself and wished he had kept still. Doctors don’t know much, and that’s a fact. She’s too much interested in things-she ought to rest more. She’s all the time sending messages to BB, and to soldiers and Injuns and whatnot, and to the animals.”

“To the animals?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Who carries them?”

“Sometimes Potter, but mostly it’s Shekels.”

“Now come! who can find fault with such pretty make-believe as that?”

“But it ain’t make-believe, Marse Tom. She does send them.”

“Yes, I don’t doubt that part of it.”

“Do you doubt they get them, sir?”

“Certainly. Don’t you?”

“No, sir. Animals talk to one another. I know it perfectly well, Marse Tom, and I ain’t saying it by guess.”

“What a curious superstition!”

“It ain’t a superstition, Marse Tom. Look at that Shekels – look at him, now. Is he listening, or ain’t he? Now you see! he’s turned his head away. It’s because he was caught – caught in the act. I’ll ask you – could a Christian look any more ashamed than what he looks now? – Lay down! You see? he was going to sneak out. Don’t tell me, Marse Tom! If animals don’t talk, I miss my guess. And Shekels is the worst. He goes and tells the animals everything that happens in the officers’ quarters; and if he’s short of facts, he invents them. He hasn’t any more principle than a blue jay; and as for morals, he’s empty. Look at him now; look at him grovel. He knows what I am saying, and he knows it’s the truth. You see, yourself, that he can feel shame; it’s the only virtue he’s got. It’s wonderful how they find out everything that’s going on – the animals. They—”

“Do you really believe they do, Dorcas?”

“I don’t only just believe it, Marse Tom, I know it. Day before yesterday they knew something was going to happen. They were that excited, and whispering around together; why, anybody could see that they– But my! I must get back to her, and I haven’t got to my errand yet.”

“What is it, Dorcas?”

“Well, it’s two or three things. One is, the doctor don’t salute when he comes. Now, Marse Tom, it ain’t anything to laugh at, and so—”

“Well, then, forgive me; I didn’t mean to laugh – I got caught unprepared.”

“You see, she don’t want to hurt the doctor’s feelings, so she don’t say anything to him about it; but she is always polite, herself, and it hurts that kind for people to be rude to them.”

“I’ll have that doctor hanged.”

“Marse Tom, she don’t want him hanged. She—”

“Well, then, I’ll have him boiled in oil.”

“But she don’t want him boiled. I—”

“Oh, very well, very well, I only want to please her; I’ll have him skinned.”

“Why, she don’t want him skinned; it would break her heart. Now—”

“Woman, this is perfectly unreasonable. What in the nation does she want?”

“Marse Tom, if you would only be a little patient, and not fly off the handle at the least little thing. Why, she only wants you to speak to him.”

“Speak to him! Well, upon my word! All this unseemly rage and row about such a – a– Dorcas, I never saw you carry on like this before. You have alarmed the sentry; he thinks I am being assassinated; he thinks there’s a mutiny, a revolt, an insurrection; he—”

“Marse Tom, you are just putting on; you know it perfectly well; I don’t know what makes you act like that – but you always did, even when you was little, and you can’t get over it, I reckon. Are you over it now, Marse Tom?”

“Oh, well, yes; but it would try anybody to be doing the best he could, offering every kindness he could think of, only to have it rejected with contumely and. Oh, well, let it go; it’s no matter – I’ll talk to the doctor. Is that satisfactory, or are you going to break out again?”

“Yes, sir, it is; and it’s only right to talk to him, too, because it’s just as she says; she’s trying to keep up discipline in the Rangers, and this insubordination of his is a bad example for them-now ain’t it so, Marse Tom?”

“Well, there is reason in it, I can’t deny it; so I will speak to him, though at bottom I think hanging would be more lasting. What is the rest of your errand, Dorcas?”

“Of course her room is Ranger headquarters now, Marse Tom, while she’s sick. Well, soldiers of the cavalry and the dragoons that are off duty come and get her sentries to let them relieve them and serve in their place. It’s only out of affection, sir, and because they know military honors please her, and please the children too, for her sake; and they don’t bring their muskets; and so—”

“I’ve noticed them there, but didn’t twig the idea. They are standing guard, are they?”

“Yes, sir, and she is afraid you will reprove them and hurt their feelings, if you see them there; so she begs, if – if you don’t mind coming in the back way—”

“Bear me up, Dorcas; don’t let me faint.”

“There – sit up and behave, Marse Tom. You are not going to faint; you are only pretending – you used to act just so when you was little; it does seem a long time for you to get grown up.”

“Dorcas, the way the child is progressing, I shall be out of my job before long – she’ll have the whole post in her hands. I must make a stand, I must not go down without a struggle. These encroachments. Dorcas, what do you think she will think of next?”

“Marse Tom, she don’t mean any harm.”

“Are you sure of it?”

“Yes, Marse Tom.”

“You feel sure she has no ulterior designs?”

“I don’t know what that is, Marse Tom, but I know she hasn’t.”

“Very well, then, for the present I am satisfied. What else have you come about?”

“I reckon I better tell you the whole thing first, Marse Tom, then tell you what she wants. There’s been an émeute, as she calls it. It was before she got back with BB. The officer of the day reported it to her this morning. It happened at her fort. There was a fuss betwixt Major-General Tommy Drake and Lieutenant-Colonel Agnes Frisbie, and he snatched her doll away, which is made of white kid stuffed with sawdust, and tore every rag of its clothes off, right before them all, and is under arrest, and the charge is conduct un—”

“Yes, I know – conduct unbecoming an officer and a gentleman – a plain case, too, it seems to me. This is a serious matter. Well, what is her pleasure?”

“Well, Marse Tom, she has summoned a court-martial, but the doctor don’t think she is well enough to preside over it, and she says there ain’t anybody competent but her, because there’s a major-general concerned; and so she – she – well, she says, would you preside over it for her?. Marse Tom, sit up! You ain’t any more going to faint than Shekels is.”

“Look here, Dorcas, go along back, and be tactful. Be persuasive; don’t fret her; tell her it’s all right, the matter is in my hands, but it isn’t good form to hurry so grave a matter as this. Explain to her that we have to go by precedents, and that I believe this one to be new. In fact, you can say I know that nothing just like it has happened in our army, therefore I must be guided by European precedents, and must go cautiously and examine them carefully. Tell her not to be impatient, it will take me several days, but it will all come out right, and I will come over and report progress as I go along. Do you get the idea, Dorcas?”

“I don’t know as I do, sir.”

“Well, it’s this. You see, it won’t ever do for me, a brigadier in the regular army, to preside over that infant court-martial – there isn’t any precedent for it, don’t you see. Very well. I will go on examining authorities and reporting progress until she is well enough to get me out of this scrape by presiding herself. Do you get it now?”

“Oh, yes, sir, I get it, and it’s good, I’ll go and fix it with her. Lay down! and stay where you are.”

“Why, what harm is he doing?”

“Oh, it ain’t any harm, but it just vexes me to see him act so.”

“What was he doing?”

“Can’t you see, and him in such a sweat? He was starting out to spread it all over the post. Now I reckon you won’t deny, any more, that they go and tell everything they hear, now that you’ve seen it with yo’ own eyes.”

“Well, I don’t like to acknowledge it, Dorcas, but I don’t see how I can consistently stick to my doubts in the face of such overwhelming proof as this dog is furnishing.”

“There, now, you’ve got in yo’ right mind at last! I wonder you can be so stubborn, Marse Tom. But you always was, even when you was little. I’m going now.”

“Look here; tell her that in view of the delay, it is my judgment that she ought to enlarge the accused on his parole.”

“Yes, sir, I’ll tell her. Marse Tom?”

“Well?”

“She can’t get to Soldier Boy, and he stands there all the time, down in the mouth and lonesome; and she says will you shake hands with him and comfort him? Everybody does.”

“It’s a curious kind of lonesomeness; but, all right, I will.”

Chapter XI. Several Months Later. Antonio And Thorndike

“Thorndike, isn’t that Plug you’re riding an assert of the scrap you and Buffalo Bill had with the late Blake Haskins and his pal a few months back?”

“Yes, this is Mongrel – and not a half-bad horse, either.”

“I’ve noticed he keeps up his lick first-rate. Say – isn’t it a gaudy morning?”

“Right you are!”

“Thorndike, it’s Andalusian! and when that’s said, all’s said.”

“Andalusian and Oregonian, Antonio! Put it that way, and you have my vote. Being a native up there, I know. You being Andalusian-born—”

“Can speak with authority for that patch of paradise? Well, I can. Like the Don! like Sancho! This is the correct Andalusian dawn now – crisp, fresh, dewy, fragrant, pungent—”

 
“’What though the spicy breezes
Blow soft o’er Ceylon’s isle—’
 

– Git up, you old cow! stumbling like that when we’ve just been praising you! out on a scout and can’t live up to the honor any better than that? Antonio, how long have you been out here in the Plains and the Rockies?”

“More than thirteen years.”

“It’s a long time. Don’t you ever get homesick?”

“Not till now.”

“Why now? – after such a long cure.”

“These preparations of the retiring commandant’s have started it up.”

“Of course. It’s natural.”

“It keeps me thinking about Spain. I know the region where the Seventh’s child’s aunt lives; I know all the lovely country for miles around; I’ll bet I’ve seen her aunt’s villa many a time; I’ll bet I’ve been in it in those pleasant old times when I was a Spanish gentleman.”

“They say the child is wild to see Spain.”

“It’s so; I know it from what I hear.”

“Haven’t you talked with her about it?”

“No. I’ve avoided it. I should soon be as wild as she is. That would not be comfortable.”

“I wish I was going, Antonio. There’s two things I’d give a lot to see. One’s a railroad.”

“She’ll see one when she strikes Missouri.”

“The other’s a bull-fight.”

“I’ve seen lots of them; I wish I could see another.”

“I don’t know anything about it, except in a mixed-up, foggy way, Antonio, but I know enough to know it’s grand sport.”

“The grandest in the world! There’s no other sport that begins with it. I’ll tell you what I’ve seen, then you can judge. It was my first, and it’s as vivid to me now as it was when I saw it. It was a Sunday afternoon, and beautiful weather, and my uncle, the priest, took me as a reward for being a good boy and because of my own accord and without anybody asking me I had bankrupted my savings-box and given the money to a mission that was civilizing the Chinese and sweetening their lives and softening their hearts with the gentle teachings of our religion, and I wish you could have seen what we saw that day, Thorndike.

“The amphitheatre was packed, from the bull-ring to the highest row – twelve thousand people in one circling mass, one slanting, solid mass – royalties, nobles, clergy, ladies, gentlemen, state officials, generals, admirals, soldiers, sailors, lawyers, thieves, merchants, brokers, cooks, housemaids, scullery-maids, doubtful women, dudes, gamblers, beggars, loafers, tramps, American ladies, gentlemen, preachers, English ladies, gentlemen, preachers, German ditto, French ditto, and so on and so on, all the world represented: Spaniards to admire and praise, foreigners to enjoy and go home and find fault – there they were, one solid, sloping, circling sweep of rippling and flashing color under the downpour of the summer sun – just a garden, a gaudy, gorgeous flower-garden! Children munching oranges, six thousand fans fluttering and glimmering, everybody happy, everybody chatting gayly with their intimates, lovely girl-faces smiling recognition and salutation to other lovely girl-faces, gray old ladies and gentlemen dealing in the like exchanges with each other – ah, such a picture of cheery contentment and glad anticipation! not a mean spirit, nor a sordid soul, nor a sad heart there – ah, Thorndike, I wish I could see it again.

“Suddenly, the martial note of a bugle cleaves the hum and murmur– clear the ring!

“They clear it. The great gate is flung open, and the procession marches in, splendidly costumed and glittering: the marshals of the day, then the picadores on horseback, then the matadores on foot, each surrounded by his quadrille of chulos. They march to the box of the city fathers, and formally salute. The key is thrown, the bull-gate is unlocked. Another bugle blast – the gate flies open, the bull plunges in, furious, trembling, blinking in the blinding light, and stands there, a magnificent creature, centre of those multitudinous and admiring eyes, brave, ready for battle, his attitude a challenge. He sees his enemy: horsemen sitting motionless, with long spears in rest, upon blindfolded broken-down nags, lean and starved, fit only for sport and sacrifice, then the carrion-heap.

“The bull makes a rush, with murder in his eye, but a picador meets him with a spear-thrust in the shoulder. He flinches with the pain, and the picador skips out of danger. A burst of applause for the picador, hisses for the bull. Some shout ‘Cow!’ at the bull, and call him offensive names. But he is not listening to them, he is there for business; he is not minding the cloak-bearers that come fluttering around to confuse him; he chases this way, he chases that way, and hither and yon, scattering the nimble banderillos in every direction like a spray, and receiving their maddening darts in his neck as they dodge and fly – oh, but it’s a lively spectacle, and brings down the house! Ah, you should hear the thundering roar that goes up when the game is at its wildest and brilliant things are done!

“Oh, that first bull, that day, was great! From the moment the spirit of war rose to flood-tide in him and he got down to his work, he began to do wonders. He tore his way through his persecutors, flinging one of them clear over the parapet; he bowled a horse and his rider down, and plunged straight for the next, got home with his horns, wounding both horse and man; on again, here and there and this way and that; and one after another he tore the bowels out of two horses so that they gushed to the ground, and ripped a third one so badly that although they rushed him to cover and shoved his bowels back and stuffed the rents with tow and rode him against the bull again, he couldn’t make the trip; he tried to gallop, under the spur, but soon reeled and tottered and fell, all in a heap. For a while, that bull-ring was the most thrilling and glorious and inspiring sight that ever was seen. The bull absolutely cleared it, and stood there alone! monarch of the place. The people went mad for pride in him, and joy and delight, and you couldn’t hear yourself think, for the roar and boom and crash of applause.”