"No, sir; but get one home to-day. This very fine pony; suppose we try him."
Pablo then put the halter on, and tied the end short to the fore-leg of the pony, so that it could not walk without keeping its head close to the ground—if it raised its head, it was obliged to lift up its leg. Then he put the lasso round its neck, to choke it if it was too unruly, and having done that, he cast loose the ropes which had tied its fore-legs together.
"Now, Massa Humphrey, we get him home somehow. First I go loose the dogs; he 'fraid of the dogs, and run t'other way."
The pony, which was an iron-gray and very handsome, plunged furiously and kicked behind, but it could not do so without falling down, which it did several times before Pablo returned with the dogs. Humphrey held one part of the lasso on one side, and Pablo on the other, keeping the pony between them; and with the dogs barking at it behind, they contrived, with a great deal of exertion and trouble, to get the pony to the cottage. The poor animal, driven in this way on three legs, and every now and then choked with the lasso, was covered with foam before they arrived. Billy was turned out of his stable to make room for the new-comer, who was fastened securely to the manger and then left without food, that he might become tame. It was too late then, and they were too tired themselves to go for the other two ponies; so they were left lying on the snow all night, and the next morning they found they were much tamer than the first; and during the day, following the same plan, they were both brought to the stable and secured alongside of the other. One was a bay pony with black legs, and the other a brown one. The bay pony was a mare, and the other two horses. Alice and Edith were delighted with the new ponies, and Humphrey was not a little pleased that he had succeeded in capturing them, after what had passed between Edward and him. After two days' fasting, the poor animals were so tame that they ate out of Pablo's hand, and submitted to be stroked and caressed; and before they were a fortnight in the stable, Alice and Edith could go up to them without danger. They were soon broken in; for the yard being full of muck, Pablo took them into it and mounted them. They plunged and kicked at first, and tried all they could to get rid of him, but they sunk so deep into the muck that they were soon tired out; and after a month, they were all three tolerably quiet to ride.
The snow was so deep all over the country that there was little
communication with the metropolis. The intendant's letters spoke of
King Charles raising another army in Holland, and that his adherents in
England were preparing to join him as soon at he marched southward.
"I think, Edward," said the intendant, "that the king's affairs do now wear a more promising aspect; but there is plenty of time yet. I know your anxiety to serve your king, and I can not blame it. I shall not prevent your going, although, of course, I must not appear to be cognizant of your having so done. When the winter breaks up I shall send you to London. You will then be better able to judge of what is going on, and your absence will not create any suspicion; but you must be guided by me."
"I certainly will, sir," replied Edward. "I should, indeed, like to strike one blow for the king, come what will."
"All depends upon whether they manage affairs well in Scotland; but there is so much jealousy and pride, and, I fear, treachery also, that it is hard to say how matters may end."
It was soon after this conversation that a messenger arrived from
London with letters, announcing that King Charles had been crowned in
Scotland, with great solemnity and magnificence.
"The plot thickens," said the intendant; "and by this letter from my correspondent, Ashley Cooper, I find that the king's army is well appointed, and that David Lesley is lieutenant-general; Middleton commands the horse, and Wemyss the artillery. That Wemyss is certainly a good officer, but was not true to the late king: may he behave better to the present! Now, Edward, I shall send you to London, and I will give you letters to those who will advise you how to proceed. You may take the black horse; he will bear you well. You will of course write to me, for Sampson will go with you, and you can send him back when you consider that you do not require or wish for his presence: there is no time to be lost, for, depend upon it, Cromwell, who is still at Edinburgh, will take the field as soon as he can. Are you ready to start to-morrow morning?"