32 WHIP AND SPUR. 



so bound that the wound would heal, although 

 the joint must be stiff. She could never carry 

 me again, but she could be my pet ; and I 

 would send her home, and make her happy for 

 many a long year yet. We moved camp two 

 miles, to the edge of the town, and she followed, 

 painfully and slowly, the injured limb dragging 

 behind her; I could not give her up. She was 

 picketed near my tent, and for some days grew 

 no worse. 



Finally, one lovely Sunday morning, I found 

 her sitting on her haunches like a dog, patient 

 and gentle, and wondering at her pain. She re- 

 mained in this position all day, refusing food. I 

 stroked her velvet crest, and coaxed her with 

 sugar. She rubbed her nose against my arm, 

 and was evidently thankful for my caresses, but 

 she showed no disposition to rise. The adjutant 

 led me into my tent as he would have led me 

 from the bedside of a dying friend. I turned to 

 look back at poor Vixen, and she gave me a 

 little neigh of farewell. 



They told me then, and they told it very ten- 



