Peggy Stewart, Navy Girl at Home | Page 6

had
nearly bled to death before discovered. Her little foal stood near,
surprised at his dam's indifference to his needs, his little baby face and
great round eyes, so like his mother's, filled with questioning doubt. As
Peggy bent over the beautiful dying mare's head, tears streaming from
her eyes, for she had cared for her and loved her since colthood, the
little foal gave a low nicker and coming up behind the girl, thrust his
soft muzzle over her shoulder and nestled his head against her face,
trembling and quivering with a terror he could not understand. Peggy
raised one arm to clasp it around the little creature's warm neck. The
Empress tried to nicker an answer to her baby but the effort cost her
last breath and heart-throb. It ended in a fluttering sigh and her head lay

still and at rest upon Peggy's lap. The splendid animal, which had so
often carried Peggy upon her back, the mother of Shashai, and many
another splendid horse whose fame was widely known, lay lifeless. Her
little son nestled closer to the one he knew and loved best as though
begging her protection. Peggy held him close, sobbing upon his warm
neck.
"You'd better get up, Miss Peggy," said Shelby kindly.
Peggy bent and kissed the great silky head. "Good-bye, Empress. I'll
care for your baby," she said. Shelby lifted the splendid head from the
girl's lap and helped her to her feet. The little colt still huddled close to
her.
"Have you any orders, miss, about her?" asked Shelby, nodding toward
the dead mare.
"She shall be buried in the circle and shall have a monument. We owe
her much. Her foal shall be my charge."
"And I reckon mine, too. If we raise him now it will be a miracle. He's
going to miss his dam's milk."
"I think I can manage," answered Peggy. "Bud, come with me. I wish
you to go down to Annapolis with a note to Doctor Feldmeyer. He will
understand what I wish to do. Ride in on Nancy Lee. Come, little one,"
and with the little colt's neck beneath her circling arm Peggy walked
slowly back to the paddock from which barely three hours before the
splendid mare, now lying lifeless in the pasture, had dashed, leaving a
trail of her life's blood behind her to guide those who came too late. It
was all the outcome of one person's disregard of orders: One of the
hands had quit his work to gossip, leaving his great hedge shears
hanging carelessly across the gate, and the gate unfastened. The
Empress, gamboling with her foal, had rushed upon them, cut herself
cruelly, then maddened by the pain and terrified by the flowing blood,
had dashed away as only a frightened horse can, running until she fell
from exhaustion.

Peggy went back to the inclosure in which the Empress, as the most
honored of the brood mares, had lived with her foal. The little stable, a
very model of order and appointment, stood at one end of it. She
opened the gate, intending to leave the colt in the inclosure, but he
huddled closer and closer to her side.
"Why Roy, baby, what is it!" asked Peggy, as she would have spoken
to a child. The little thing could only press closer and nicker its baby
nicker. Peggy hesitated a moment, then said: "It will never do to leave
you now. You are half starved, you poor little thing. Eight weeks are
NOT many to have lived. Come." And as though he understood every
word and was comforted, the baby horse nickered again and walked
close by her side. She went straight to the house, circling the garden,
rich in early spring blossoms, to enter a little inclosure around which
the servants' quarters were built, one building, a trifle more pretentious
than the rest, evidently that of some upper servant. As Peggy and her
four-footed companion drew near, a trim little old colored woman
looked out of the door. She was immaculate in a black and white
checked gingham, a large white apron and a white turban, suggestive of
ante-bellum days. Instantly noting signs of distress upon her young
mistress' face she hurried toward her, crying softly in her melodious
voice:
"Baby! Honey! What's de matter? 'What's done happen? What fo' yo'
bring Roy up hyer? Where de Empress at?"
"Oh Mammy, Mammy, the Empress is dead. She--"
"What dat yo' tellin' me, baby? De Empress daid? Ma Lawd, wha'
Massa Neil gwine do to we-all when he hyar DAT? He gwine kill
SOMEBODY dat's sartin suah. What kill her?"
Peggy told the story briefly, Mammy Lucy, who had been mammy to
her and her father before her, listening attentively, nodding her head
and clicking her tongue