First of all came Foster-father, stout and solid, on his skew-bald hill
pony which was called Horse-chestnut because it was patched all over,
like an unripe chestnut, with yellow, brown and white.
It had a lovely tail that touched the ground, and a coat that was long
and wavy like an Irish setter's. A wise, sober pony was Horse-chestnut;
he never attempted to climb up anything he thought too difficult, but
just gave a look at it to make sure and then put down his head calmly,
and began to graze until his rider found an easier path.
Next came Trooper Faithful on his old white charger Lightning. Once upon
a time it had been like its name, swift exceedingly, but now, like its
master, it was slow and stiff.
Then followed Head-nurse, astride, in Indian fashion, the bay Belooch
mare which had been Queen Humeeda's favourite mount until it had had to
be left behind in one of the hasty moves which had of late been so
common in the hunted life of the Royal Fugitives. The mare, of course,
had been taken by the pursuers, and brought along with them; and the
groom in charge of it had come grinning with delight to Foster-father
when he found himself in the same camp again. Foster-father was for
riding the bay mare himself and giving sober Horse-chestnut to the
Heir-to-Empire, but Head-nurse would not hear of this. The bay mare was,
she said, altogether more royal. So there she was, with Baby Akbar
astride a cushion in front, perched on the skittish creature, feeling at
heart very nervous, for she was but a poor rider.
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