--just as if they were dancing on
eggs.

"Proud, stuck-up things," thought Skipper.

It was clear that none of this work was for him. Early on the first
morning of his service men in brass-buttoned blue coats came to the
stable to feed and rub down the horses. Skipper's man had two names. One
was Officer Martin; at least that was the one to which he answered when
the man with the cap called the roll before they rode out for duty. The
other name was "Reddy." That was what the rest of the men in blue coats
called him. Skipper noticed that he had red hair and concluded that
"Reddy" must be his real name.

As for Skipper's name, it was written on the tag tied to the halter
which he wore when he came to the city. Skipper heard him read it. The
boy on the farm had done that, and Skipper was glad, for he liked the
name.

There was much to learn in those first few weeks, and Skipper learned it
quickly. He came to know that at inspection, which began the day, you
must stand with your nose just on a line with that of the horse on
either side. If you didn't you felt the bit or the spurs. He mastered
the meaning of "right dress," "left dress," "forward," "fours right,"
and a lot of other things. Some of them were very strange.

[Illustration: There were many heavy wagons.]

Now on the farm they had said, "Whoa, boy," and "Gid a-a-ap." Here they
said, "Halt" and "Forward!" But "Reddy" used none of these terms. He
pressed with his knees on your withers, loosened the reins, and made a
queer little chirrup when he wanted you to gallop. He let you know when
he wanted you to stop, by the lightest pressure on the bit.

It was a lazy work, though. Sometimes when Skipper was just aching for a
brisk canter he had to pace soberly through the park driveways--for
Skipper, although I don't believe I mentioned it before, was part and
parcel of the mounted police force. But there, you could know that by
the yellow letters on his saddle blanket.

For half an hour at a time he would stand, just on the edge of the
roadway and at an exact right angle with it, motionless as the horse
ridden by the bronze soldier up near the Mall. "Reddy" would sit as
still in the saddle, too. It was hard for Skipper to stand there and see
those mincing cobs go by, their pad-housings all a-glitter, crests on
their blinders, jingling their pole-chains and switching their absurd
little stubs of tails. But it was still more tantalizing to watch the
saddle-horses