He passed slowly into the library, and sat down with his book.
After the frugal evening meal, which Aunt Frances, Peter's spouse, served with due punctiliousness, the Major sought his room, pleading fatigue. Really he sat alone, thinking, for a long time before going to bed. It was past ten o'clock when he finally arose, and going to a south window, looked out in the direction of the stable. The night was star-lit only, so he did not see a stealthy figure climb the rail fence enclosing the barn lot, and move swiftly across the intervening space to The Prince's door.
CHAPTER II
As a town, Macon did not differ materially from its sister towns of like size throughout the State. It is true it was located on the border of the bluegrass, and this alone gave it a distinction which the penny-royal and mountain districts did not possess. The corporate limits of the place held about three thousand souls—black and white—and nobody ever got in a hurry. A quiet air of indolent aristocracy pervaded the town. Shops were opened late, and if any one wished to buy, they were served courteously and languidly, but there was no "drumming for trade." For all of its lazy atmosphere, it might have been located farther south. But its people were good people, on the whole, although they permitted saloons, and went wild over horse racing. And, best of all, they reverenced their women. A lady on the streets of Macon had respectful right of way. It may have been that they were duly proud of these three things, for they knew full well that nowhere in the world were nobler or more beautiful women, faster horses, or better whiskey.
The nabobs of central Kentucky were a distinct and exclusive class in the years preceding the great Civil strife which freed the colored race. They had friends about them constantly, near and from a distance. They gave large banquets and more often drank immoderately; they dressed in expensive and fashionable clothes, and had body servants galore. Each gentleman had a personal valet, to shave him every morning, attend to his wardrobe and be always within call. Another servant groomed his favorite horse, brought it around and held the stirrup while his master mounted, and was always on the spot when his master returned to have the bridle reins thrown to his waiting hands.
Then came the war scourge, and the old order passed. Homes were broken up; houses were pillaged and burned, bought and sold. Of the several stately homes surrounding Macon, but one or two remained in the family after the war.
The Dudleys were an old family, proud as could be, and holding manual labor a disgrace. This faulty doctrine was due to heredity and training, and detracted in no way from the sterling manhood and womanhood which ran with the name. They had been wealthy people generations gone, living freely and without stint. Then came the days when one of them became a black sheep and killed a man while in liquor. It took most of the vast estate to save him from the gallows. When the war ended Major Thomas Dudley found that he had little left save a wife and child, the homestead, a half dozen horses of purest racing strain, and an eighty acre farm which would grow with equal abundance hemp, tobacco, corn or wheat. He would not work; he could not work. Had a Dudley's hand ever touched the handle of a plow? Never! Welcome genteel starvation rather than ignoble toil! In the meantime the family had to live in befitting manner. One by one the servants, enticed by their new-found freedom, drifted away. At length only Peter and Aunt Frances were left, and the Major knew that his body servant would never go, for between these two was that subtle, adamantine bond which rarely existed, but which, once formed, was indissoluble.
Julia grew to girlhood, and the question of her education came up. There had never been a Dudley, male or female, who had not received a complete college course. The Major avowed that Julia should go to boarding school, and he signed away the remaining eighty acres with a hand which did not tremble in order that the traditions of his family should remain inviolate. Julia, ignorant of the sacrifice which had been made for her, went away three successive years, coming back the last time to find her mother dying. After Mrs. Dudley had been laid to rest in the little cemetery east of town, the daughter stepped into her place in the management of the household. Up to this time she had supposed her father had plenty, but the fact that they were almost poverty stricken became quickly revealed to her now. She met the situation with a brave and smiling face, and employed every art she knew to cut down expenses. About this time a number of shares of stock in the thriving Bank of Macon were placed on the market. Then Major Dudley severed the last tie which bound him to the old life. He was getting too old to give his horses proper attention. He sold them, every one, retaining only a colt not quite a year old, and bought the bank stock. He had figured out that the dividends which this would bring would barely keep them in food and clothing, and pay the taxes on the home. The colt which he had held back from the sale he had given to Julia at its birth, and this was The Prince, the last member of the stables which in years gone by had been the wonder of all Kentucky.
Peter, born to the care of fine horses, shadowed The Prince day and night. Though well up in the seventies, he had broken the young horse to the saddle, and that without a fall. Then, shrewd old rascal that he was, one balmy night he had ridden the colt out to the race track, one mile from the town limits, and tested his speed. He had no watch wherewith to time the exploit, but he needed none, for had he not seen races ever since he was two feet tall! The result had been marvelous. The Prince almost ran from under him, and he must needs cling on with heels and hands when the horse was in motion. When he slipped from his back in an ecstasy of joy, Peter knew that he stood beside the greatest race-horse that had ever touched Kentucky soil! The old darkey was wild with delight, and could hardly wait till morning to tell the Major of his discovery. Major Dudley's face beamed when the news was given him.