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e a string of pearls ter me-ee ... Grrr, Nellie, stop kickin'!" The range of desolate hills in the background is flickering with gun-flashes and grumbling with drum-fire--the Bosch evensong. A bay horse (shifting his weight from one leg to the other)._ Somebody's catching it in the neck to-night. _A chestnut_. Yep. Now if this was 1914, with that racket loose, we'd be standing to. _A gunpack horse_. Why? _Chestnut_. Wind up, sonny. Why, in 1914 our saddles grew into our backs like the ivy and the oak. In 1914-- _A black horse_. Oh, dry up about 1914, old soldier; tell us about the Battle of Hastings and how you came to let WILLIAM'S own Mounted Blunderbusses run all over you. _A bay horse_. Yes, and how you gave the field ten stone and a beating in the retreat to Corunna. What are your personal recollections of NAPOLEON, Rufus? _Chestnut_. You blinkin' conscripts, you! _Black._ Shiss! no bad language, Rufus--ladies present. _Chestnut_. Ladies, huh. Behave nice and ladylike when they catch sight of the nosebags, don't they? _A skewbald mare_. Well, we gotta stand up for our rights. _Chestnut_. S'truth you do, tooth and hoof. What were you in civil life, Baby? A Suffragette? _Skewbald_. No, I wasn't, so there. _Bay_. No, she was a footlights favourite; wore her mane in plaits and a star-spangled bearing-rein and surcingle to improve her fig-u-are; did pretty parlour tricks to the strains of the banjo and psaltery. _N'est-ce pas, cherie?_ _Skewbald_. Well, what if I did? There's scores of circus-gals is puffect lydies. I don't require none of your familiarity any'ow, Mister. _Bay_. Beg pardon. Excuse my bluff soldierly ways; but nevertheless take your nose out of my hay-net, please. _A Canadian dun_. Gee! quit weavin' about like that, Tubby. Can't you let a guy get some sleep. I'll hand you a cold rebuff in the ribs in a minute. Wazzer matter with you, anyhow? _Tubby_. Had a bad dream. _Black_. Don't wonder, the way you over-eat yourself. _Bay_. Ever know a Quartermaster's horse that didn't? He's the only one that gets the chance. _Skewbald_. And the Officers' chargers. _Voice from over the way_. Well, we need it, don't we? We do all the bally head-work. _Bay_. Hearken even unto the Honourable Montmorency. Hello, Monty there! Never mind about the bally head-work, but next time you're out troop-leading try to steer a course somewhat approaching the straight. You had the l
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