"A man of the 17th Lancers, who had lost his horse near Binche in August last, had a curious adventure. In a fight with a patrol of Uhlans he recognised his old mount ridden by a German. The animal recognised him and broke away from the enemy's ranks, carrying the German rider with him. After the new master was put out of action there was a joyful scene between the old master and the lost horse." Writing to his father a trooper in the Royal Horse Guards speaks in this way of his charger: "Dolly goes very well. She doesn't always get corn, so is a bit thin. Thanks for remembering my best friend. I always pinch the smallest thing for her, if it be only a muddy crust. She greatly enjoyed the sugar you sent for her." Trooper S. Stanley, Royal Scots Greys, wrote thus: "I owe my own life and that of perhaps a whole army to my old horse. I was on outpost duty at a lonely spot, and though I could not hear or see anything my horse kept neighing and betraying signs of restlessness. I got down and came on a German crouching in the long grass. He had a sword bayonet, and evidently meant to get me unawares, and then the post would have been rushed. I didn't wait to ask his intentions, but let him have a ticket for another country. His yells brought his mates down, but I got away, and the row alarmed the guard and spoiled their attempt at surprising us. You bet the old nag had a special feed that night." CHAPTER XXVIII What the French and Belgians Think After studying our soldiers for a considerable time a special correspondent of _L'Independance_ wrote: "'Tommy' ... loves to laugh; he has clear eyes and smokes almost continually a cigarette or a pipe. He is a sportsman, who views war as a continuation of the sports he practises in peace times. No one could be more placid than he. He does not know what it is to be nervous. Two 'Tommies' at the beginning of the war were driving a motor-wagon from Rheims to Amiens. They missed the way, and arrived at Rouen. 'This is not the way,' someone told them, 'towards Amiens; you will perhaps meet Germans.' 'That doesn't matter. If we meet them we will shoot them,' was the reply. That is the state of 'Tommy's' soul. He is convinced that everything will be right. He never loses an opportunity of taking 'un tub' as thoroughly as decency permits in the circumstances. And for nothing in the world will he neglect to shave with care. Recently there arrived at an hotel, over which flew the Red Cross flag, a wounded English soldier. He had a piece of shell in the right hand, two bullets in his left shoulder, and one in his stomach. He went, first of all, to the barber's shop on the ground floor of the hotel. They pointed out to him that the ambulance entrance was at the side. 'I see,' he said, 'but I must be shaved first'!"