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Soldier Boy – Privately To Himself
I am Buffalo Bill’s horse. I’ve spent my life under his saddle – even with him, and he’s good for two hundred pounds.
without his clothes; It cannot be told how much it weighs when it is on the battlefield with its batteries strapped.
He is more than six feet tall, young, he does not have an ounce of waste flesh, he is straight, handsome, flexible in his movements, fast as a cat.
His face is beautiful, and black hair hangs over his shoulders and he is beautiful to look at, and there is no one braver than him, and no one is stronger than me.
Yes, anyone who doubts that he’s good looking should see him in beaded buckskin, on my back and his rifle peeping over his shoulder, following a hostile trail.
I was moving like the wind and her hair was flowing behind her broad back. Yes, it is worth watching and I myself am a part of it.
I am his favorite horse out of dozens.
As big as he is, I have carried him eighty-one miles on the Scout between nightfall and sunrise; And I’m good for fifty, day after day, and all the time.
I’m not big, but I’m made on a commercial basis. I have carried him thousands upon thousands of miles on army scout duty.
And in the whole region of the Rocky Mountains and the Great Plains there is neither a valley, nor a pass, nor a valley, nor a fort, nor a trading post, nor a buffalo chain, that we do not know as well as we know Are. Bugle-voice.
He is the Chief of Scouts of the Frontier Force and is very important to us.
To be eligible for the position I hold in the military service, one must be from a good family and have an education well above the ordinary.
Everyone says that I am the most educated horse outside the hippodrome and the best behaved.
It may be so, it is not my business to say; I believe that humility is the best policy.
Buffalo Bill taught me everything I know, my mother taught me a lot, and the rest I taught myself.
Place in front of me a row of moccasins – Pawnee, Sioux, Shoshone, Cheyenne, Blackfoot, and any number of other tribes you wish – and I can name each moccasin based on its texture.
Name it in horse-talk, and if I had speech I could do it in American.
I know some Indian signals—signals which they make with their hands, and by signal fires by night, and by columns of smoke by day.
Buffalo Bill taught me how to drag wounded soldiers out of the line of fire with my teeth; And I have done this too; At least I pulled him out of battle when he was injured.
And not just once, but twice. Yes, I know many things.
I remember forms, movements and faces, and you cannot hide the person who has done me so much kindness that after that I will not know him wherever I find him.
I know the art of finding a way, and I know the way from the freshest to the oldest. I can walk alone on the trail with Buffalo Bill asleep in the saddle; Ask him—he will tell you so.
Sometimes, when he travels all night, he says to me at dawn, “Take the watch, boy; If the path is fresh, then call me.
Then he falls asleep. He knows he can count on me because I have a reputation. A scout who has a reputation does not play with the horse.
I mean, she took the colonel; But it’s all the same. Where would he be without his horse? He will not reach. It takes two to make a colonel of dragoons.
| Author | Mark Twain |
| Language | English |
| No. of Pages | 186 |
| PDF Size | 4.3 MB |
| Category | Novel |
| Source/Credits | archive.org |
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