“How am I to do this?” I asked.
“Take my pony. It is not twenty minutes’ ride from hence; and you will stand a good chance of getting it back, especially if the man who held it was an Englishman. He is sure to be found in the English camp.”
Thanking him for his kindness, I mounted, and started full gallop for head-quarters. I made inquiries at the Post-office, where I had the pleasure of meeting Mr. Russell, who introduced me to Mr. Angel, the postmaster. I then inquired for the Hue and Cry, and related the circumstances under which I had lost my pony. All seemed highly amused. They laughed heartily at my expense, and I could not help joining in the merriment. Mr. Angel invited me to dine with him, having a few friends that evening to join his popotte.
“I am much obliged, my dear sir; but I am staying at Balaklava, and I suppose you dine late.”
“About six o’clock,” replied Mr. Angel. “You can sleep here. We have no bed, it’s true; but I can lend you a blanket; and there is a small hut, which is empty, you can have all to yourself. Mr. Bracebridge slept there the night before last, when on a visit to Captain Boucher, a friend of his.”
“Oh, as far as that goes, I shall be comfortable enough.”
“Then you will dine with me?”
“I will,” said I, “and am much obliged for your kind invitation.”
I thought by accepting it, I should have an excellent opportunity of looking out for my pony in the morning, if I did not happen to find it that night; I therefore went to the Hue and Cry, and gave the best description, to my knowledge, as I had not had the honour of his acquaintance long, and did not know of any private marks by which he might be recognised. They gave me but faint hopes of seeing it again, and by way of comforting me, showed me a long list of missing horses, mules, and ponies, enough to fill half a column of the Times.
“I don’t care so much about the pony, as that can be replaced; but the saddle is a new one from London, and neither the animal nor the saddle belong to me.”