Маугли

           "DickCunliffe’sonmybackthen,anddriveshiskneesintome,andallIhavetodoistowatchwhereIamputtingmyfeet,andtokeepmyhindlegswellunderme,andbebridle-wise."

           "What’sbridle-wise?"saidtheyoungmule.

           "BytheBlueGumsoftheBackBlocks,"snortedthetroop-horse,"doyoumeantosaythatyouaren’ttaughttobebridle-wiseinyourbusiness?Howcanyoudoanything,unlessyoucanspinroundatoncewhenthereinispressedonyourneck?Itmeanslifeordeathtoyourman,andofcoursethat’slifeanddeathtoyou.Getroundwithyourhindlegsunderyoutheinstantyoufeelthereinonyourneck.Ifyouhaven’troomtoswinground,rearupalittleandcomeroundonyourhindlegs.That’sbeingbridle-wise."

           "Wearen’ttaughtthatway,"saidBillythemulestiffly."We’retaughttoobeythemanatourhead:stepoffwhenhesaysso,andstepinwhenhesaysso.Isupposeitcomestothesamething.Now,withallthisfinefancybusinessandrearing,whichmustbeverybadforyourhocks,whatdoyoudo?"

           "Thatdepends,"saidthetroop-horse."GenerallyIhavetogoinamongalotofyelling,hairymenwithknives—longshinyknives,worsethanthefarrier’sknives—andIhavetotakecarethatDick’sbootisjusttouchingthenextman’sbootwithoutcrushingit.IcanseeDick’slancetotherightofmyrighteye,andIknowI’msafe.Ishouldn’tcaretobethemanorhorsethatstooduptoDickandmewhenwe’reinahurry."

           "Don’tthekniveshurt?"saidtheyoungmule.