She took it, and allowed herself to be drawn up. Then he descended and swung her to the ground with her hands in his. A gently sloping, slightly wooded hill stretched up before them, and as they began the leisurely ascent she spoke again.
"You know that local news comes to us rather slowly, and we have just learned of what you did to Mr. Marston—that day."
Her voice was low, and she did not look at him.
John's face darkened, but he did not answer on the moment.
"I felt that I should speak to you," went on Julia; "it was because of me you did it. You were very brave."
Her face was aflame now.
"Yes," he replied. "The cur had mistreated you in some way, and I could not stand it!"
Here was his chance to go ahead and tell her all, for there was no possibility of interruption. But he did not speak. Why, he could not say. They walked on in silence. Soon they were going down a rain-washed hill-side where it was necessary he should assist her. He offered her his hand without speaking, and she took it dumbly. So they reached the level again, and went towards the fair ground, now only a short distance off. They halted in front of the grandstand. Several horses were on the track, but their eyes were quickly drawn to the lithe, graceful figure of The Prince. He had just come from the track stables, and was walking down the home stretch with a withered, monkey-like figure perched upon his back. Uncle Peter saw the twain, and guided the colt up to the low fence enclosing the track.
"Well, Uncle Peter, are we too late?" asked Glenning.
The old fellow removed his tattered hat, and bowed.