So I
have good reason to remember Brimacott and Billy Pitt. Do you remember
Billy Pitt?"
"He's here in the stable," said both the children in a breath.
"Then let us go and see Billy Pitt, for he's a very old friend of
mine," said the Colonel, and away he walked to the stable with the
children following him. The old horse seemed to know him, for he
pricked his ears and kept nuzzling with his nose all over the Colonel's
coat, until he put his hand into his pocket and pulled out an apple for
him. "Look there," said the Colonel, passing his hand along the scar
on the horse's neck. "The time came for Billy to get wounded and for
me to look after him, as he had saved me. That was at Salamanca." He
stopped for a minute and laid his hands on the children's shoulders.
"Poor Billy had lost his master, you know, and came galloping up to me
with his saddle empty, for he knew my horse well. And then he remained
by my side, moving when I moved and stopping when I stopped, and
charging with us when we charged. He came out of the fight with this
cut on his neck. Poor Brimacott was badly wounded in the leg, and
there was no one to look after the old horse, so I sewed up Billy's
wound myself and kept him. He was well long before the Corporal--I
made him corporal, you know--and, indeed, poor Brimacott was never fit
for rough work again, so when he went home I sent Billy with him.
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