This text is part of:
Table of Contents:
 “ Yes, doctor, it's me they call the Horse Marine, sure enough.” “But why do they call you so?” I asked, as I replaced the dressings. The man had got a sabre-slash across the head-not a dangerous one-and was in my ward of the MacFinnegan Hospital at the time. “Why, you see, sir, I served a good while in the marines before this war broke out; and so, when I 'listed into the land service, the boys soon found out I'd been a sea-soldier, and dubbed me The Horse Marine at once.” “And what made you choose the cavalry, Spaddon?” “Why, you see, sir, when I was a sea-soldier, I had a ship to carry me. ‘And so,’ says I, ‘if I go into the land service, I will have a horse to carry me, and that's a ship I can steer myself;’ for I was a jockey before I was a marine.” “ But why not re-enter the marines?” “Ah, it was the bounty, doctor! The sea-soldiers didn't get any bounty then; nor the sailors neither, for that matter-more's the shame. And though I was not to say very poor, yet money was not amiss, nor the horse neither, to tell you the truth, for another reason. For between you and I, sir, I didn't go into the service again out of what you call pure patriotism altogether, nor for the love of fighting, though I have not shirked the last, if I say it myself, neither.” “ I should think not, Spaddon, from appearances; but,” continued I, liking the man, of whom I had known something previously, and having a little spare time at the moment-“what did you enlist for, then?”
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 United States License.
An XML version of this text is available for download, with the additional restriction that you offer Perseus any modifications you make. Perseus provides credit for all accepted changes, storing new additions in a versioning system.