go A BOOK OF MORTALS 



sides are galled with wounds or furrowed with cicatrices ; 

 and his hoofs are pierced with nails." 



True. The horse is often a patient slave, but it is as 

 the companion and friend of the hero that we think of him 

 here. Practically the whole history of this companionship 

 is held in one or two tales. First that of the old Rajput 

 battle cry, "At ! nila-ghora-ke-aswar ! (Oh ! rider on the grey 

 horse !) which has echoed out over many a fierce fight, 

 horse and man mingled in combat unto death. Echoed 

 out in memory of Prince Pertap who, left alone alive of 

 his band of followers, fled on his wounded favourite ; fled 

 and found himself followed as a dog follows his master by 

 one of the conquering Emperor's staff. 



Then for the first time there echoed out that cry " Ai ! 

 nila-ghora-ke-aswar .' " It nerved the rider, the horse to 

 fresh efforts. But it would not be denied. The grey 

 horse failed, stumbled, fell. And then ? Then the pursuer 

 knelt at his master's feet, before the eyes of the whole con- 

 quering army, and gave him his fresh horse, going back to 

 his post, and to death for treachery, leading the wounded one. 



That the Emperor forgave him, and raised him to still 

 higher honour, does not injure the heroism and the devo- 

 tion which have elevated the cry to one of headlong on- 

 slaught ! 



Then again in the story of that night ride to York, 

 when Black Bess never slackened speed in order to save 

 Dick Turpin's life. The sparks from her flying hoofs on 

 the hard road blind our eyes to all but the strenuous effort 

 of the innocent beast. 



Finally we have dear old Don Quixote, lance at rest, 

 tilting old Rosinante at windmills, Sintram riding through 



