“Your servant, ladies! Can I be of any assistance?”
“Why,” gasped Peggy, turning about in amazement as a lad of about eighteen, whose appearance was far from reassuring, stepped from the woods into the road. “Who art thou, and what does thee want?”
“I want to help you mend your saddle,” said the youth coolly, doffing a tattered beaver with some grace. “Didst not say that the girth had broke?”
“Yes, but,” began the girl, when her mother spoke:
“Art sure that thou canst aid us, my lad?” she asked mildly. “Thou wilt not mind if I say that thee looks in need of aid thyself.”
“As to that, madam, it can be discussed later,” he rejoined. “For the present, permit me to say that here is a piece of rawhide, and here a jack-knife. What doth hinder the repairing of the saddle but your permission?”
“And that thou hast,” returned the lady. “We shall be indeed grateful to thee for thy aid.”
At once the youth stepped to the side of the mare, and inspected the broken band critically. Then, removing the saddle to the ground, he set to work upon it with a dexterity that showed him to be no novice. “What is the name of the pony?” he asked, addressing the maiden directly.
“Star,” answered she regarding him with curious eyes.
He was in truth a spectacle to excite both curiosity and pity. He was haggard and unkempt, and his garments hung about him in tatters. His form was thin to emaciation, and, while he boasted the remains of a beaver, his feet were without covering of any sort.