“By Jove! That fellow knows his business,” ejaculated Merriam.
The rider had got out of the stirrups and was standing on his saddle crouching low over the horse, which for a minute was submerged.
“He must be a circus performer,” declared Zelda.
“No; the government has a school on the Hudson where they teach tricks like that.”
“Oh, a West Pointer! But what’s he doing here?”
“Let’s get out of this,” said the old gentleman, tightening the hold on his reins and ignoring her question.
He had been watching the horseman closely and his keen old eyes had recognized an acquaintance.
“Not run from the enemy! I am surprised at you, mon oncle!”
“Come on,” he said, over his shoulder.
But Zelda smiled at him.