“After as long a stay as was proper, my Major told them he must go, and I was brought round. Miss Fairley came to the stoop with him, and didn’t I prick up my ears when I heard her say:
“‘Since you were defrauded of your ride to-day, Major Moran, perhaps you will lunch here to-morrow, and afterward we will see if we can’t be more successful?’
“The next day our interference was done a little differently. When we were brought round to the door, there was Mr. Lewis with a pair of cruelly big rowelled spurs on his boots, a brutal Mexican quirt in his hand, and a look on his face to match the two. Of course the grey gave him a lot of trouble in mounting, but we had already planned a different policy; and so, after enough snorting and trembling to make Felicia look thoughtful, he finally was allowed to get on Mr. Solitaire’s back.
“Much good it did him! The filly and I paired off just as if we were having a bridle trip in double harness; but do his best, Mr. Lewis could not keep the grey abreast of us. Twenty feet in front, or thirty feet behind, that was where he was during the whole ride, and Lewis fought one long battle trying to make it otherwise. He had had the reins buckled to the lower bar of the curb, so it must have been pretty bad for the grey, but there was no flinching about him.
“Every now and then I could hear the blows of the quirt behind me; and when, occasionally, the grey passed us, I could see his sides gored and bleeding where they had been torn by the spurs, and bloody foam was all round his jaw, and flecked his chest and flanks. But he knew what he meant to do, and he did it without any heed to his own suffering. There was joy when the filly told us that every time the swish of the quirt was heard she could feel her rider shiver a little; and Felicia must have been distressed at the look of the horse, for she cut the ride short by suggesting a return home.
“Sagitta informed us afterward that if Mr. Lewis had been bad the day before, he was the devil that afternoon on the verandah, and Miss Fairley treated him like one. What is more, she vetoed a ride for the next day by saying that she thought it was getting too cold to be pleasant. When we had ridden away, Solitaire later told me, she excused herself to Mr. Lewis, and went to the stable and fed the grey with sugar, patting him, and telling the groom to put something on the spur-gashes.
“We horses didn’t hear anything more for three days, at the end of which time my pal and I rode over one morning, and reminded Miss Fairley that she had promised to show us where we should find some fringed gentians; and though it was the coldest day of the autumn, Felicia didn’t object, but ordered Miss Gaiety saddled, and away we went.
“We really had a very good time getting those gentians! Nothing was ever done with the flowers, however, owing to circumstances which constitute the most painful part of my confession. For a horse and an officer, I had been pretty tricky already, but that was nothing to the fraud I tried to perpetrate that morning. After our riders had mounted for the return to Yantic, I suggested to Miss Gaiety what I thought would be a winning race for my Major, which was neither more nor less than that she should run away, and let him save Miss Fairley. The roan came right into the scheme, and we arranged just how it was to be managed. She was to bolt, and I was to catch her; but since my Major had only his left arm, as soon as she felt his hand on the rein she was to quiet down; and I have no doubt but it would have been a preeminently successful coup if it had been run to the finish.
“What actually happened was that the mare bolted at a rabbit which very opportunely came across the road, and away she went like a shell from a mortar. I didn’t even wait for orders, but sprang after her at a pace that would have settled it before many minutes. Just as I had got my gait, however, my poor dear gave a groan, reeled in his saddle, and before I could check myself he pitched from my back to the ground. I could not stop my momentum under thirty feet, but I was back at his side in a moment, sniffing at him, and turning him over with my nose, for his wounded arm was twisted under him, and his face was as white as paper. That was the worst moment of my life, for I thought I’d killed him. I put my head up in the air, and didn’t I whinny and neigh!
“The filly, finding that something wrong had happened, concluded to postpone the runaway, and came back to where I was standing. Miss Fairley was off her like a flash, and, kneeling beside my treasure, tried to do what she could for him, though that really wasn’t anything. Just then, by good luck, along came a farmer in an oxcart. They lifted my poor dear into it, and a pretty gloomy procession took up its walk for Yantic.