Volume Ii Part 22 (2/2)
”'Yessir.'
”'What did they say?'
”'Said there was no such 'orse as Radford.'
”'Bradford, I said.'
”'Beg pardon, sir. Understood the name was Radford, and the Sergeant----'
”'Yes, the Sergeant, what did he say then?'
”'Said I was a ha.s.s, sir----'
”'Quite right, go on,' said the Major, encouragingly.
”'And that I must mean Radnor, and Radnor was the 'orse as was sent up, sir.'
”The Major turned on his heel without a word, and walked again into the Vet.'s office, followed by me. The 'Tommy' remained at 'attention,' and may be in the same att.i.tude now, as far as I know.
”'This is a relief, anyhow,' said Laughton, 'Radnor would have been ”cast” very soon, and so his sudden death won't be so surprising to the Board.'
”Up to this point the Vet. had been silent; now a smile hovered over his face as he said, 'Leave the whole business to me, Major. Where's the defunct?'
”The Major described the place, and the interview ended, and we walked back to Laughton's quarters.”
”The Board a.s.sembled, and briefly, the result of their deliberations was to find that the bay gelding Radnor was discovered dead in his stall, the certified cause of death being fatty degeneration of the heart.”
”Yes, that's all very fine and large, but how the----? what the----?
when the----!!!” broke in a Babel of voices.
”Hold on, boys, and you shall know one or two things which the Board didn't know. Picture a scene in the barrack yard like this: a dark night, moon only showing in fitful gleams now and then; a trolly with a couple of horses; four stalwart Tommies and a sergeant-major seated on the trolly; it rattles out of the barrack square and over some five miles or so of road to the heath where the hero of the day breathed his last. The trolly is drawn up on to the gra.s.s, and after a few minutes'
search the Sergeant-Major discovers the _corpus delicti_; with much exertion it is hauled up on to the trolly, and the return journey commences.
”Just before the witching hour of midnight 'when sentries yawn and Colonels go to bed'--Shakespeare freely transposed, boys, this--enter the trolly to the stable yard again. The dead horse is hoisted out, put in its stall, and the head-collar most carefully adjusted ('in case he should get loose,' observed one Tommy to another, with an unholy grin).
”All the actors in the little drama retire to imbibe liquid sustenance 'stood' by an invisible donor--peace reigns again all around the barrack square, and----and that's the end. Waiter, bring me a whiskey and soda, and some matches.”
TURNBULL AND SPEARS, PRINTERS, EDINBURGH.
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