Sallie Russell 131 



brutal curses, and wound the heavy thongs of his 

 ox-hide whip about her slender body, every blow of 

 which left ridges easily mistaken for her gaunt ribs. 

 There was no blacksmith with this train to repair or 

 replace her shoes, and her delicate hoofs were soon 

 worn down to the quick. Every step she took jarred 

 upon her sensitive nerves like an electric shock ; and 

 yet she had no voice with which to complain, and 

 her appeals would have been unheeded if she had. 



There is one phase of war which is usually over- 

 looked. We sympathize with the men who sacrifice 

 their lives, limbs, or health. We pity the widows 

 and orphans, and are sorry for surviving friends ; but 

 we give little heed to the devoted animals without 

 which war would be impossible. Some of these ani- 

 mals go into battle and charge unflinchingly upon a 

 wall of bayonets ; others stand quietly by the heavy 

 guns they have hurried into position, and are lacer- 

 ated by exploding shells. But back of all these is a 

 toiling mass working quietly day by day to supply 

 the food and ammunition for all these heroes. Many 

 of them die by the way ; most of them endure suffer- 

 ing, and nearly all of them abuse, but they are silent 



