Neither breast strap, crupper nor martingale
hampered the free movements of the sturdy, stocky little weight
carriers. The black, single-reined curb bridle, fastened as to the
throat latch by a light buckle, was slipped on over the headstall of the
so-called watering bridle, whose toggled and detachable snaffle bit was
generally "toted" from start to finish of a field scout in the saddle
bags,--a twist of the flexible lariat, Indian fashion, between the
complaisant jaws of his pet, being the troop's ready substitute. Add to
this that, full, free and unmutilated, in glossy waves the beautiful
manes and tails tossed in the upland breeze (for the heresies of
Anglomania never took root in the American cavalry) and you have Ray's
famous troop as it looked, fresh started from old Fort Frayne this
glorious autumn morning of 188-, and with a nod of approbation, and "It
couldn't be better, sergeant," to his devoted right hand man, the
veteran senior non-commissioned officer of the troop, Ray rang out the
command "At ease," and placed himself beside the silent young lieutenant
at the head of column.
[Illustration: RAY'S TROOP.]
As has been said, Ray's senior subaltern was on detached service.
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