A Rough Shaking | Page 4

as the fact that there are men who believe in no animal rights, or in any God of the animals, and think we may do what we please with them, indulging at their cost an insane thirst after knowledge. Injustice may discover facts, but never truth.
"I grant him nearly a perfect creature," he answered, "But he is far more nearly perfect than you yet know him! Excuse me for speaking so confidently; but if we were half as far on for men, as Memnon is for a horse, the kingdom of heaven would be a good deal nearer!"
"He seems an old horse!"
"He is an old horse--much older than you can think after seeing him come over that paling as he did. He is forty."
"Is it possible!"
"I know and can prove his age as certainly as my own. He is the son of an Arab mare and an English thoroughbred.--Come here, Memnon!"
The horse, who had been standing behind like a servant in waiting, put his beautiful head over his master's shoulder.
"Memnon," said Mr. Skymer, "go home and tell Mrs. Waterhouse I hope to bring a gentleman with me to lunch."
The horse walked gently past us, then started at a quick trot, which almost immediately became a gallop.
"The dear fellow," said his master, "would not gallop like that if he were on the hard road; he knows I would not like it."
"But, excuse me, how can the animal convey your message?--how communicate what he knows, if he does understand what you say to him?"
"He will at least take care that the housekeeper look in his mane for the knot which perhaps you did not observe me tie in it."
"You have a code of signals by knots then?"
"Yes--comprising about half a dozen possibilities.--I hope you do not object to the message I sent! You will do me the honour of lunching with me?"
"You are most kind," I answered--with a little hesitation, I suppose, fearing to bore my new acquaintance.
"Don't make me false to horse and housekeeper, Mr. Gowrie," he resumed.--"I put the horse first, because I could more easily explain the thing to Mrs. Waterhouse than to Memnon."
"Could you explain it to Memnon?"
"I should have a try!" he answered, with a peculiar smile.
"You hold yourself bound then to keep faith with your horse?"
"Bound just as with a man--that is, as far as the horse can understand me. A word understood is binding, whether spoken to horse, or man, or pig. It makes it the more important that we can do so little, must work so slowly, for the education of the lower animals. It seems to me an absolute horror that a man should lie to an inferior creature. Just think--if an angel were to lie to us! What a shock to find we had been reposing faith in a devil."
"Excuse me--I thought you said _an angel_!"
"When he lied, would he not be a devil?--But let us follow Memnon, and as we walk I will tell you more about him."
He turned to the wood.
"The horse," I said, pointing, "went that way!"
"Yes," answered his master; "he knew it was nearer for him to take the long way round. If I had started him and one of the dogs together, the horse would have gone that way, and the dog taken the path we are now following."
We walked a score or two of yards in silence.
"You promised to tell me more about your wonderful horse!" I said.
"With pleasure. I delight in talking about my poor brothers and sisters! Most of them are only savages yet, but there would be far fewer such if we did not treat them as slaves instead of friends. One day, however, all will be well for them as for us--thank God."
"I hope so," I responded heartily. "But please tell me," I said, "something more about your Memnon."
Mr. Skymer thought for a moment.
"Perhaps, after all," he rejoined, "his best accomplishment is that he can fetch and carry like a dog. I will tell you one of his feats that way. But first you must know that, having travelled a good deal, and in some wild countries, I have picked up things it is well to know, even if not the best of their kind. A man may fail by not knowing the second best! I was once out on Memnon, five and twenty miles from home, when I came to a cottage where I found a woman lying ill. I saw what was wanted. The country was strange to me, and I could not have found a doctor. I wrote a little pencil-note, fastened it to the saddle, and told the horse to go home and bring me what the housekeeper gave him--and not to spare himself. He went off at a steady trot of ten or twelve miles an hour.