““Because it's got no balls, Monsewer,” he informed Pierre Joubert, and he repeated the poor joke a dozen times in the next two days just to make certain that its insult was understood. Joubert smiled and said nothing, and the Major would launch himself into a panegyric on Peter's merits. His old horse had whistling lungs, while this one could be ridden all day and still had its head up and a spring in its long stride. “A thoroughbred, Captain,” he told Joubert, 'an English thoroughbred. Not... some screw-backed old French nag, but a proper horse." The men in Dodd's Cobras liked to see their Major on his fine big horse. It was true that one man had died in the beast's acquisition, yet the theft had still been a fine piece of banditry, and the men had laughed to see the English Sergeant searching the camp while all the while Major Dodd's jemadar, Gopal, was hiding the horses a long way to the north. Colonel Pohlmann was less amused. “I promised McCandless safe conduct, Major,”MoreLessRead More Read Less
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