“‘I’ll follow you, thanks,’ I said, ‘and borrow a few matches from you.’
“‘Come on, then,’ said my would-be host pleasantly; and trundling my cycle in front of me, I followed him.
“He was a man apparently about forty—square-shouldered, tall, straight, and manly-looking. He did not look a farmer, but he evidently was, from the appearance of his place—and a farmer, too, of sporting proclivities.
“A boy was drawing water from a deep well; a fine old hunter stood by watching the boy—a dark bay horse, whose hollow temples and somewhat drooping under-lip gave proofs of age. A couple of beautiful setter dogs came careering up to meet their master, and received a fond caress. The old horse left the boy at the well and ambled up, then, laying his head on my host’s shoulder, nickered low but kindly.
“‘Bless his good old heart! Has he had his supper?’
“My heart warmed to a man who could speak thus kindly to a dumb brute.
“‘You love that horse, evidently,’ I said.
“‘I do,’ was the reply. ‘I have good cause to. Down, Doddie—down on your knees to this gentleman.’
“Doddie, as he called him, did at once what he was told to, and there remained while I smoothed his ears and caressed him on the brow.
“‘Trot off now, Doddie, and have a drink.’