“What for?”
“Don’t ask questions. Because it’s right. Ready for use if the horse pulls too much or bolts.”
“Is he likely to pull too much or bolt?”
“Don’t ask questions. No, he isn’t. Soldiers generally ride on the curb, but a horse like this don’t want it. He has been ridden with cavalry, too. Now then, once more at a walk—March!”
The horse started again, with his soft, warm back feeling terribly slippery, but I sat quite stiffly upright, and he walked straight up the paddock, and seemed as if he were going to leap the hedge, making me wonder which side I should fall; but just as we were close up, the sergeant’s voice rang out,—
“Right wheel!”
The horse turned to the right instantly, and had gone a dozen yards when the sergeant shouted again, “Right wheel!” and directly after, “Forward!” with the result that we were now facing him, and went slowly down the paddock, till the sergeant shouted, “Halt!” just as I was beginning to feel a little more comfortable, and not as if I must slide off right or left at any moment.
“Well, that’s pretty fair, sir,” cried Lomax, as the horse stopped short. “Chest out more, back hollow. Keep your knees well in. Capital horse for you to learn on. Knows all his work. Well, we won’t waste time walking. You shall do that now at a trot.”
“Without a sad—”
“’Tention. No talking in the ranks.”