“Yours is the fresher of the two, and better able to use his instinct.”
“Yours is much keener to get to a stable,” she laughed.
I walked mine back a little distance and then gave him his head. He walked deliberately to the side of the road, and began to crop the grass.
Volna tried hers then; and he went as far as the fork where he waited for the other to join him. Then they both moved on to the left.
“So be it,” said I, and we let them go as they would.
“It’s not raining so fast,” declared Volna, presently. “Shall we draw up under a tree and give them the rest of the bread?”
“It’ll be nice soft food,” I laughed.
“I can wring my cloak, too, and ease the weight from my horse a little.”
We pulled up under a tree and gave the horses the bread, munching a crust ourselves, and making the best of things. Volna’s pluck was inextinguishable; and she laughed and joked over her plight as she wrung out the wet.
I struck a match and looked at my watch, and was startled to find it was nearly ten o’clock.