“I shall go to-morrow morning,” he said firmly, “and find him and bring him home.”
For the last two or three minutes Squire Bidwell had been gazing intently at something that had attracted his notice off on the hillside in the distance.
“Well, I declare!” he exclaimed, finally, “that is curious. Look!”
He pointed to the place where the open country road wound up the long slope of Hickory Hill. The sun had so far descended that the valley was in shadow, but it was still flooding the hilltops with its yellow light; and in its glow the figure of a boy on a horse, almost a mile away, was distinctly outlined.
“Do you see them,” asked the squire,—“up there in the road? They’ve done it twice or three times already. Now they’re going to do it again; watch ’em!”
What “they” had done was this: The boy was apparently laboring under some indecision, as if wishing to remain on the top of the hill. The horse, however, was plainly bent upon rushing down the hill toward the house. After a plunge down the road, the rider would succeed in turning the animal’s head up again; but he would no sooner have got a fair start in that direction, than the horse, swinging suddenly around, would begin to gallop furiously down the road once more toward the Gaston farm.
Now, again, in sight of them all, the boy succeeded in stopping the horse, in turning his head, and forcing him to reascend the hill; and once more the horse whirled about and plunged down the road toward the house.
This time, however, he received no check. The boy, as if in weariness and despair, allowed the reins to droop. The animal sped on, and the next moment both were hidden behind the trees at the bend of the road.
Mr. Gaston, shading his eyes with his hand, still stood gazing intently at the place where horse and rider had disappeared.