BRUTUS, COW PONY 



WHEN No. 2, the big black trans- 

 port on which Brutus sailed (odd 

 name for a horse, you say; yes, 

 that's what the Colonel said, 

 but that comes later), was only a few days out of 

 Cape Town, the first shot was fired and the war 

 began. As No. 2 finally steamed into the harbor 

 and docked, Brutus fidgeting excitedly deep down 

 in the hold with the other horses of the 19th 

 Lancers, could hear the bells in the engine room 

 as they clanged for "Slow," the swish and slap 

 of the sea against the ship's side, and then the 

 gurgling churn of the waters as the vibrating 

 engines reversed and held her. Overhead he 

 heard orders shouted and the steady trample of 

 men as the regiments formed aft and went down 

 the gangplank, two abreast. 



Then came the thing he hated worst in the 



world, which he had gone through on embarking 



and the sudden whirl to a giddy height, and the 



swift drop made him dizzy. Horse after horse 



132 



