end and 'is 'ind-legs at t'other, the middle of the 'orse is about
the only safe spot, and _that is why we place the saddle there_.
Everything in the Harmy is done with a reason, gentlemen.

"And now, Number Ten, tell me what coloured 'orse you are ridin'?

"A chestnut? No 'e ain't no chestnut and never was, no, nor a
raspberry roan neither; 'e's a bay. 'Ow often must I tell you that
a chestnut 'orse is the colour of lager beer, a brown 'orse the
colour of draught ale, and a black 'orse the colour of stout.

"And now, gentlemen, stan' to yer 'orses, 'pare to mount--mount!

"There you go, Number Seven, up one side and down the other. Try
to stop in the saddle for a minute if only for the view. You'll get
yourself 'urted one of these days dashing about all over the 'orse
like that; and 'sposing you was to break your neck, who'd get into
trouble? _Me_, not you. 'Ave a bit of consideration for other people,
please.

"Now mind the word. Ride--ri'--tur-r-rn. Walk march. Tr-a-a-at.
Helbows slightly brushing the ribs--_your_ ribs, not the 'orse's,
Number Three.

"Shorten yer reins, 'eels down, 'eads up, 'ollow yer backs, four feet
from nose to croup.

"Get off that mare's neck, Number Seven, and try ridin' in the saddle
for a change; it'll be more comfortable for everybody.