When the stables came into view, over the open door of a box a long brown head and neck were seen stretched towards the approaching girl.
"I'm going to let him out," she said; "but you mustn't come too close. He hates strangers; and so should I if I'd been through the hell he's been through."
Le Breton laughed, as if anyone, more especially the slim girl with him, telling him to be careful of anything in the shape of a horse had its intensely funny side.
As Pansy opened the door his glance ran swiftly over the animal.
It was a huge, gaunt beast, a chestnut, with wild, roving eyes; a great, vicious-looking creature, well on in years and undoubtedly an old race-horse, for speed was written all over it. And on it, too, were scars and weals that spoke of past ill-treatment.
Pansy kissed its soft nose, and patted and stroked it and pulled its ears; and the great animal fawned on her.
Then she led it out, keeping a tight grip on its mane. For it bared its teeth at Le Breton, and stood shivering and expectant, as if suspecting every man's hand to be against it.
He, however, ignored its attentions and came closer. But it swung round and lashed at him with iron heels.
"Oh, do be careful! Don't come so close," Pansy cried.
In spite of its snarls and the iron hoofs, she kept her grip on its mane. But neither teeth nor hoofs, were in her direction.