or myself — and she's off like gunpowder."

"It does her credit, Mat!"

"George," says Mr. Bagnet, looking straight before him, "the old girl — can't do anything — that don't do her credit. More or less. I never say so. Discipline must be maintained."

"She's worth her weight in gold," says the trooper.

"In gold?" says Mr. Bagnet. "I'll tell you what. The old girl's weight — is twelve stone six. Would I take that weight — in any metal — for the old girl? No. Why not? Because the old girl's metal is far more precious — than the preciousest metal. And she's ALL metal!"

"You are right, Mat!"