212 HUMANE HORSE-TRAINING 



wise treatment determines the career of the colt, and he 

 will invariably turn out a good fellow. 



An Army life teaches one that there are several kinds 

 of horsemen. When I joined His Majesty's Army in 

 September, 1914, I naturally thought that I was going 

 to be of some practical use. But I was indirectly for- 

 bidden to have anything to do with the horses. I spent 

 several weeks tidying up the canteen — a very congenial 

 occupation in the estimation of the other Tommies who 

 were on duty. But cleaning mustard-pots and polishing 

 knives did not fascinate me. I joined with very good 

 credentials, and they were all ignored. I rode when the 

 opportunity presented itself, but to obtain a regular 

 post with the horses was a practical impossibility. 



The Commanding Officer, a most obnoxious man — I 

 am free now to say what I choose — used to take an 

 instant dislike to anyone who could ride a horse better 

 than he (like the royal gentleman who, hundreds 

 of years ago, used to have those who were better archers 

 than himself severely punished). So his subtle pets, 

 the Sergeant-major and Q.M.S., kept an eagle eye upon me. 

 At the first opportunity they marched me before the O.C., 

 who promptly, without any cross-examination, instructed 

 the sergeant-major to take off my stripes. 



The truth, which the O.C. would not listen to, was 



