Then he arose and heeding no more the pistols on the wall, went forth calm-eyed into the golden, joyous freshness of the dawn.
CHAPTER XX
HOW THE MAJOR RAN AWAY
Larks, high in air, carolled faint and sweet, birds chirped joyously from fragrant hedgerows, a gentle wind set leaves dancing merrily, and the Major's big bay mare, being full of life and the joy of it, tossed her shapely head and beat a tattoo with her four round hoofs; but the Major rode with shoulders drooping and in gloomy silence, wherefore the Sergeant trotting behind on his stout cob, stared at the woebegone figure and shook anxious head:
"She's a bit skittish, sir," he hazarded at last as the powerful bay pranced sideways toward the hedge, "a bit wilful-like, your honour!"
"She's so young, Zeb," answered the Major absently, "so young, so full of life and youth that 'tis but to be—eh, what the devil are you saying, Sergeant Zebedee?"
"Why your honour, I——"
"Hold your tongue, sir!"
"But sir," began the Sergeant, wondering to see his master's face so red all at once, "I did but——"