"Come out—come out!" importuned the Colonel in hoarse, unsteady tones. Through the thick boards Belle-Ann heard Miss Worth's appeal.
"Belle-Ann! Belle-Ann! come out of there, dear—this instant—do, please."
The horse, catching sight of the faces at the gate, jumped forward, wheeled like a flash, and lashed out with his heels, striking the gate a terrific whack with both feet. The gate, which opened inward, clashed against its iron sleeper with a frightful noise. The horse then returned to Belle-Ann's side and lowered his head for her to resume the scratching process.
"For God's sake, Miss Benson, I beg of you to come out," called the distressed Colonel. Then Belle-Ann stepped safely and serenely without.
Miss Worth, who knew the stallion's reputation, stood with hands gripping each other tensely and with averted, pallid face. The hostler was quaking visibly, and the Colonel seized her arm as though rescuing a drowning person.
"Miss Benson," said the Colonel, "I implore you never to do that again,—please, never, never go near that gate."
"My dear," spoke up Miss Worth, "I shall have to hold you by the hand until I get you out of here. Whatever prompted you to go in with that vicious horse?"
The hostler mumbled to himself:
"I'll sho' slap er padlock on dat hoss 'fore sun-down."
"Why," said Belle-Ann laughingly, "you-all talk as though he were a big tiger instead of a big, beautiful horse—I love him."