Echoes of the Hunting Horn 



clenched teeth. Her subcutaneous serum injections 

 were given while she fed, so as to curtail human inter- 

 ference and visits to a minimum. Despite her rigid 

 muscles, the unrelenting paralysis and the appalling fire 

 in her smouldering eyes, it was heartrending to hear 

 her neigh of friendship at my every approach. 



At a quarter to twelve on Saturday night she neighed 

 to me and sucked-up her mash contentedly. She never 

 lived to see Sunday. The paralysing poison in her 

 muscles had crept to her heart. 



We had made a good fight for her life and we could 

 do no more. And looking at the poor inert body that 

 had once been my courageous Lipstick, one could not 

 help thinking how puny are man's efforts against the 

 ravages of a tiny microbe. But as it takes six weeks or 

 longer for the disease to develop, our only hope would 

 have been to prevent its development by inoculating 

 when the injury occurred. 



It is a terrifying affliction, and one can scarcely credit 

 that during World War Number One, some of the 

 shrapnel was impregnated with the germs of tetanus. 



Human demons seem still to exist in this twentieth 

 century of our Christian era. One cannot help thinking, 

 when remembering the agonies of Lipstick, that this 

 world would be a more wholesome place if we had 

 fewer war lords and more Louis Pasteurs. 



26 



