"I am called Aaron, Master."
"I thought so, and I'm glad of it. Some day I'll thank you; but now—pins and needles!" The blood was beginning to circulate in the numb leg, and this was not by any means a pleasant experience. Aaron shortened it somewhat by rubbing the limb vigorously.
"Are you still in the woods, Aaron?"
"Yes, Master."
"Well, I'm sorry. I wish you belonged to me."
"I'm wishing harder than you, Master."
"What a pity—what a pity!"
"Don't get too sorry, Master."
"No; it would do no good."
"And don't blame the Gray Mare for stumbling, Master. The saddle too high on her shoulders, the belly-band too tight, and her shoes nailed on in the dark."