"Oh, no!" protested Little Crotchet. "Don't try any tricks on that horse. He's too mean and cruel. If you can get him in his stable, and fasten him in, I'll be glad. But don't go near him; he'll bite your head off."
Aaron laughed and then he seemed to be considering something. "I wish"—He paused and looked at Little Crotchet.
"You wish what?" asked the lad.
"I wish you might go with me. But it is dark. The moon is a day moon. I could tote you to the fence."
"And then what?" asked Little Crotchet.
"You could see a tame horse—the grandson of Abdallah."
"I'll go to the fence if you'll carry me," said Little Crotchet. "The air is not cold—no wind is blowing."
"Shall I go too?" asked Mr. Hudspeth.
"I'd be glad," said Aaron.
So, although the night was not cold, Aaron took a shawl from the bed and wrapped it about Little Crotchet, lifted the lad in his arms, and went softly down the stairway, Mr. Hudspeth following. The night was not so dark after all. Once away from the light, various familiar objects began to materialize. The oaks ceased to be huge shadows. There was a thin, milk-white haze in the sky that seemed to shed a reflection of light on the earth below.