“Then I heard the voice of the Little Master crying ‘Take me down stairs!’
“In a little while the Son of Ben Ali came down the tree and stood at the door, which was presently opened by the White-haired Master. His speech was short and quick:—
“‘Where are the horses?’
“‘Here, Master,’ said the Son of Ben Ali, who came running toward me. ‘Mount here, Master.’
“‘Show me the way!’ said the White-haired Master.
“The Son of Ben Ali flung himself on the Gray Mare, my sister. The gates were all open, and we went through them in a hurry. I felt the White-haired Master settle himself in the saddle and try the stirrups. Then his knees pressed a little closer to the saddle, and I thought, ‘Here is a rider—a little heavy, but more helpful than a lighter man who has never learned to fit himself to the curve of the saddle, and to move as the horse moves.’ He reached his right arm forward to feel of the play of my shoulders, and gave me a gentle pat by way of praise.
“The Gray Mare, my sister, was trained for racing, while I was raw and untried, waiting for my turn, that came afterward, and she tripped along ahead of me as lightly as a rabbit that has just been frightened from its bed.
“We cleared the gates and the narrow lane, and presently struck into the big road.
“‘Are we going to Harmony?’ asked the White-haired Master.