he liked. There were plenty of fine horses in the stalls, but to
the king's astonishment Moti chose a poor little rat of a pony
that was used to carry grass and water for the rest of the
stable.

'But why do you choose that beast?' said the king.

'Well, you see, your majesty,' replied Moti, 'there are so many
chances that I may fall off, and if I choose one of your fine big
horses I shall have so far to fall that I shall probably break my
leg or my arm, if not my neck, but if I fall off this little
beast I can't hurt myself much.'

A very comical sight was Moti when he rode out to the war. The
only weapon he carried was his staff, and to help him to keep his
balance on horseback he had tied to each of his ankles a big
stone that nearly touched the ground as he sat astride the little
pony. The rest of the king's cavalry were not very numerous, but
they pranced along in armour on fine horses. Behind them came a
great rabble of men on foot armed with all sorts of weapons, and
last of all was the king with his attendants, very nervous and
ill at ease. So the army started.

They had not very far to go, but Moti's little pony, weighted
with a heavy man and two big rocks, soon began to lag behind the
cavalry, and would have lagged behind the infantry too, only they
were not very anxious to be too early in the fight, and hung back
so as to give Moti plenty of time. The young man jogged along
more and more slowly for some time, until at last, getting
impatient at the slowness of the pony, he gave him such a