"Oh, yes, sir," said he, reddening suddenly, "I have taken off the saddle, and thrown him his corn." What the deuce does his confusion mean, thought I; the fellow looks as if he had half a mind to run away, merely because I asked him a simple question. "I've had a sharp ride," said I, rather by way of saying something, "and I shouldn't wonder if he was a little fatigued." "Scarcely so, sir," said he, with a faint smile; "he's old now, but it's not a little will tire him." "You know him, then," said I, quickly. "Ay, sir, and have known him for eighteen years. He was in the second squadron of our regiment; the major rode him two entire campaigns!" The reader may guess that his history was interesting to me, from perceiving the impression the reminiscence made on the relator, and I inquired what became of him after that. "He was wounded by a shot at Neuwied, and sold into the train, where they couldn't manage him; and after three years, when horses grew scarce, he came back into the cavalry. A sergeant-major of lancers was killed on him at 'Zwei Brucken.' That was the fourth rider he brought mishap to, not to say a farrier whom he dashed to pieces in his stable." Ah, Jack, thought I, I have it; it is a piece of old-soldier superstition about this mischievous horse has inspired all the man's respect and reverence; and, if a little disappointed in the mystery, I was so far pleased at having discovered the clew. "But I have found him quiet enough," said I; "I never backed him till yesterday, and he has carried me well and peaceably." "Ah, that he will now, I warrant him; since the day a shell burst under him at Waitzen, he never showed any vice. The wound nearly left the ribs bare, and he was for months and months invalided; after that he was sold out of the cavalry, I don't know where or to whom. The next time I saw him was in his present service." "Then you are acquainted with the present owner?" asked I, eagerly. "As every Frenchman is?" was the curt rejoinder. "Parbleu! it will seem a droll confession, then, when I tell you, that I myself do not even know his name." The look of contempt these words brought to my companion's face could not, it seemed, be either repressed or concealed; and although my conscience acquitted me of deserving such a glance, I own that I felt insulted by it. "You are pleased to disbelieve me, Master Caillon," said I, sternly, "which makes me suppose that you are neither so old nor so good a soldier as I fancied; at least, in the corps I had the honor to serve with, the word of an officer was respected like an 'order of the day.'" He stood erect as if on parade, under this rebuke, but made no answer. "Had you simply expressed surprise at what I said, I would have given you the explanation frankly and freely; as it is, I shall content myself with repeating what I said--I do not even know his name." The same imperturbable look and the same silence met me as before.