The Prince was standing a little stiffly, and his slender, patrician head hung lower than it should, but his breathing was not labored, and his eyes were bright and beaming with intelligence.
"He'll come, Peter; he'll come!" said the Major, warmly. "He had a close call, but your prompt action saved him. You're a good boy, Peter, and I commend you!"
Peter grinned his appreciation, and rubbed the satin limbs with renewed vigour.
"Yassuh, he'll come all right, 'n' w'en de race hit come, he'll beat eb'ry one ob 'em! De hoss ain't folded whut kin tech 'im!"
"I believe you, boy. Only once in a lifetime is a hoss born like The Prince."
Julia slipped into the stall as her father was speaking and going up to the noble brute, put both arms around his neck and cuddled her check upon his shoulder.
"Poor old fellow!" she murmured. "Have they used you badly because you belonged to us? Never mind. They shan't do it again. Miss Julia loves you, and all of us love you, and we are going to take care of you."
The horse turned and muzzled the sleeve of her dress understandingly.
The girl withdrew her arms and stroked his nose gently. As she rejoined her father there were tears in her eyes.
"Put a new padlock on his door tonight, Peter," cautioned the Major, as he turned to go, "and see that there are no loose planks which a sneakin' assassin might prize off."