"And Joy comes up thro' the Gates of Dawn."
The inhabitant of Farbis went back to his breakfast with the opinion that the stranger was either mad or the devil.
[CHAPTER IV.]
THE PEACOCK IN JACKDAW'S FEATHERS.
It is hard to say what made Dan so excited. Usually he was a self-contained young man, who but seldom gave vent to his high spirits. On this morning, however, he was fairly carried away by the exuberance of his animal nature. He urged Simon to a gallop along the shining sands, and shouted out any poetry that came into his head. There was nobody to listen to him save a gull or so, therefore he indulged himself to the full in such nonsense. "Dulce est desipere in loco," and why not?
Whether it was the brisk air, the roaring waves, or the sight of that beautiful face, he could not tell, but there was no doubt he was nature-mad, and pranced Simon about till the steady old roadster wondered what could be the matter with his usually sedate master. Peter enjoyed the excitement, and barked till he was hoarse. He was more in sympathy with such moods than Simon.
The beach was a goodly length of sand, and at the end there was a cluster of rocks which afforded privacy. Not a soul was in sight, for, with the exception of "t' doctor's lass," none of the Farbis folk patronized the seashore at so early an hour. Dan tied up Simon, and behind the rocks stripped off his clothes. These he left Peter to guard, jumped, naked as he was, on horseback, and went off to frolic in the water. Here was primevalism with a vengeance. It is hard to say whether Dan or Simon most enjoyed the bath. They both splashed about in the waves till the blood sang in their veins. Some distance out Dan slipped off and ducked under and rolled over till he was tired. He could not go far enough out to swim, as he had to hold Simon by the reins. At length man and beast emerged thoroughly refreshed.
Having donned his clothes, Dan once more made a racecourse of the beach, and finally trotted campward through the Gates of Dawn. Alas! no beauty awaited him this time. The sun was fairly up, and Aurora's services not being needed, she had disappeared. On his way through the village Dan had quite a crowd to look at him; but they only grinned, and did not volunteer a remark. At the Red Deer he drew rein for a tankard of ale. The landlord, stout and cheerful (as landlords should be), himself brought the frothing pot, and spoke so respectfully that Dan again felt that he was found out. What is the use of wearing shabby clothes and driving a caravan, and camping gipsy-fashion in a dell, if people will persistently say "sir" and touch their hat--or forelock, if uncovered? Dan remonstrated.
"Why do you call me 'sir,' landlord? I'm only a cheap-jack."
"That yew bain't, zur," replied the landlord, with respectful contradiction. "Aw knows gentry when aw sees 'um."