orse can speak:

"Good-bye, good master. Never will I, your faithful horse, forget you."

Broussard, walking rapidly off, in the bright January morning, turned
around for one last glimpse at the house that held Anita. At that
moment the great doors of the Commandant's house opened, and Anita,
with a long crimson cloak around her and a hood over her head, ran down
the broad stone steps to where Gamechick was standing like a bronze
horse, the best-trained and best-mannered and best-bred cavalry charger
at Fort Blizzard. Anita put her arm about his neck and rubbed her
cheek against his satin coat, Gamechick receiving her caresses with
dignity, as a cavalry charger should, and not with the tender bondings
and nosings for lumps of sugar, like Pretty Maid. The last glimpse
Broussard had of Anita was, as she stood, her arm about Gamechick's
neck, her crimson mantle falling away from her graceful shoulder.

[Illustration: The last glimpse Broussard had of Anita was, as she
stood, her arm about Gamechick's neck.]

"How much simpler," thought Broussard, as he buttoned his heavy fur
coat, for the ride to the station, "is love for a horse, for a child,
for anything created, than love for a woman! No man gets out of that
business without complications, and when the woman is half a child, an
idealist, precocious, an angel with a devil lurking somewhere about
her, it's the most complicated thing on this planet!"

Broussard carried these thoughts with him through the frozen Northwest,
across the sapphire seas, and into the jungles of the tropics, to which
he was destined.

CHAPTER V

UNFORGETTING

"As the passing of leaves, so is the passing of men." Thus it was with
Broussard. Another man came to take his place; his once luxurious
quarters, now plainly furnished, were occupied by another officer, his
fighting cocks had disappeared, and Gamechick became a lady's mount.
Anita quite gave over riding Pretty Maid, and rode Gamechick every day.
She had some of the superstitions of the Arabs about horses, and when
she dismounted, she always whispered something in the horse's ear. The
words were:

"We won't forget him, Gamechick, although he has forgotten us."

At this, Gamechick would turn his steady, intelligent eyes on her, and
nod, as if he understood every word. Colonel Fortescue and Mrs.
Fortescue noticed this little trick of Anita's and looked at each other
in silent pity for the girl. She suddenly developed