The Talking Horse & Other Stories

CONTENTS

PAGE
THE TALKING HORSE 1

THE GOOD LITTLE GIRL 39

A MATTER OF TASTE 72

DON; THE STORY OF A GREEDY DOG 127

TAKEN BY SURPRISE 151

PALEFACE AND REDSKIN 176

SHUT OUT 234

TOMMY'S HERO 250

A CANINE ISHMAEL 274

MARJORY 286




_THE TALKING HORSE_


It was on the way to Sandown Park that I met him first, on that horribly
wet July afternoon when Bendigo won the Eclipse Stakes. He sat opposite
to me in the train going down, and my attention was first attracted to
him by the marked contrast between his appearance and his attire: he had
not thought fit to adopt the regulation costume for such occasions, and
I think I never saw a man who had made himself more aggressively horsey.
The mark of the beast was sprinkled over his linen: he wore snaffle
sleeve-links, a hard hunting-hat, a Newmarket coat, and extremely tight
trousers. And with all this, he fell as far short of the genuine
sportsman as any stage super who ever wore his spurs upside down in a
hunting-chorus. His expression was mild and inoffensive, and his watery
pale eyes and receding chin gave one the idea that he was hardly to be
trusted astride anything more spirited than a gold-headed cane. And yet,
somehow, he aroused compassion rather than any sense of the ludicrous:
he had that look of shrinking self-effacement which comes of a recent
humiliation, and, in spite of all extravagances, he was obviously a
gentleman; while something in his manner indicated that his natural
tendency would, once at all events, have been to avoid any kind of
extremes.

He puzzled and interested me so much that I did my best to enter into
conversation with him, only to be baffled by the jerky embarrassment
with which he met all advances, and when we got out at Esher, curiosity
led me to keep him still in view.

Evidently he had not come with any intention of making money. He avoided
the grand stand, with the bookmakers huddling in couples, like hoarse
lovebirds; he kept away from the members' inclosure, where the Guards'
band was endeavouring to defy the elements which emptied their vials
into the brazen instruments; he drifted listlessly about the course till
the clearing-bell rang, and it seemed as if he was searching for some
one whom he only wished to discover in order to avoid.

Sandown, it must be admitted, was not as gay as usual that day, with its
'deluged park' and 'unsummer'd sky,' its waterproofed toilettes and
massed umbrellas, whose sides gleamed livid as they caught the
light--but there was a general determination to ignore the unseasonable
dampness as far as possible, and an excitement over the main event of
the day which no downpour could quench.

The Ten Thousand was run: ladies with marvellously confected bonnets
lowered their umbrellas without a murmur, and smart men on drags shook
hands effusively as, amidst a frantic roar of delight, Bendigo strode
past the post. The moment after, I looked round for my incongruous
stranger, and saw him engaged in a well-meant attempt to press a currant
bun upon a carriage-horse tethered to one of the trees--a feat of
abstraction which, at such a time, was only surpassed by that of
Archimedes at the sack of Syracuse.

After that I could no longer control my curiosity--I felt I must speak
to him again, and I made an opportunity later, as we stood alone on a
stand which commanded the finish of one of the shorter courses, by
suggesting that he should share my umbrella.

Before accepting he glanced suspiciously at me through the rills that
streamed from his unprotected hat-brim. 'I'm afraid,' I said, 'it is
rather like shutting the stable-door after the steed is stolen.'

He started. 'He _was_ stolen, then,' he cried; 'so you have heard?'

I explained that I had only used an old proverb which I thought might
appeal to him, and he sighed heavily.

'I was misled for the moment,' he said: 'you have guessed, then, that I
have been accustomed to horses?'