“I know it, and I know you are a good deal braver than you think you are.  But it’s different with me.  My battery captain called me a Pachydermatous Anachronism the other day.”

“That’s another way of fighting, I suppose?” said Billy, who was recovering his spirits.

“You don’t know what that means, of course, but I do.  It means betwixt and between, and that is just where I am.  I can see inside my head what will happen when a shell bursts, and you bullocks can’t.”

“I can,” said the troop-horse.  “At least a little bit.  I try not to think about it.”

“I can see more than you, and I do think about it.  I know there’s a great deal of me to take care of, and I know that nobody knows how to cure me when I’m sick.  All they can do is to stop my driver’s pay till I get well, and I can’t trust my driver.”

“Ah!” said the troop horse.  “That explains it.  I can trust Dick.”

“You could put a whole regiment of Dicks on my back without making me feel any better.  I know just enough to be uncomfortable, and not enough to go on in spite of it.”

“We do not understand,” said the bullocks.

“I know you don’t.  I’m not talking to you.  You don’t know what blood is.”

“We do,” said the bullocks.  “It is red stuff that soaks into the ground and smells.”

The troop-horse gave a kick and a bound and a snort.

“Don’t talk of it,” he said.  “I can smell it now, just thinking of it.  It makes me want to run—­when I haven’t Dick on my back.”

“But it is not here,” said the camel and the bullocks.  “Why are you so stupid?”

“It’s vile stuff,” said Billy.  “I don’t want to run, but I don’t want to talk about it.”

“There you are!” said Two Tails, waving his tail to explain.

“Surely.  Yes, we have been here all night,” said the bullocks.

Two Tails stamped his foot till the iron ring on it jingled.  “Oh, I’m not talking to you.  You can’t see inside your heads.”

“No.  We see out of our four eyes,” said the bullocks.  “We see straight in front of us.”

“If I could do that and nothing else, you wouldn’t be needed to pull the big guns at all.  If I was like my captain—­he can see things inside his head before the firing begins, and he shakes all over, but he knows too much to run away—­if I was like him I could pull the guns.  But if I were as wise as all that I should never be here.  I should be a king in the forest, as I used to be, sleeping half the day and bathing when I liked.  I haven’t had a good bath for a month.”

“That’s all very fine,” said Billy.  “But giving a thing a long name doesn’t make it any better.”

“H’sh!” said the troop horse.  “I think I understand what Two Tails means.”

“You’ll understand better in a minute,” said Two Tails angrily.  “Now you just explain to me why you don’t like this!”

He began trumpeting furiously at the top of his trumpet.