And now for more than a mile the road was good. It wound in slow curves, the high-branched ash and white maple meeting over it in stately arches. Under foot it was hard and fairly even, with a thin turf between the shallow ruts. Sunlight and shadow flecked it in vivid patches; and the summer winds, which were blowing briskly in the open, breathed down this sheltered corridor only as half-stirred exhalations of faint perfume. Neck by neck the horses galloped, their riders silent, looking straight ahead, but thrillingly conscious of each other's nearness. And the strong rhythm of the hoof-beats beneath them seemed to time itself to the rushing of their blood. It was now no longer with vexation, but with a sort of half pride, that Barbara realised the superiority of the sorrel over her own mount. She saw that only Robert's firm hand on the rein kept his beast from forging ahead. Thus they rushed along through the vast solitudes,—really alone together, although those solitudes were populous with the furtive kindreds of fur and feather. For the sound of their coming travelled far before them, and gave the shy folk time to withdraw from such unwelcome intrusion. Even the big black bear,—he whom Barbara had seen tearing the ant-log,—now withdrew as noiselessly and shyly as the wood-mouse, not delaying for even a glance at the two wild riders. Only the red squirrel, inquisitive, daring, and impudent, stuck to his vantage-post on a high-arched limb and jabbered shrill derision at them as they raced by.
At length, just as the intoxication of the ride and the companionship were beginning to bewilder his brain, a turn of the road showed Robert a stretch of very bad ground right ahead. The careless roadmakers had tried, in a half-hearted way, to fill up a long bog with brush and poles. Had the attempt been fully carried out, the result would have been a rough but thoroughly passable piece of "corduroy road." As it was, however, the brush and poles together had in spots sunk a foot below the surface, at one side or the other, and in other spots had been quite engulfed by the hungry black mire, making that stretch the curse of wheel-travellers, and perilous enough to any but the most cautious horsemen.
The sight cooled Robert's nerves. Instead of reining in, however, he let his beast push a half-length to the front, that he might the better control the situation if need should arise. Then he said, resolutely:
"If you have no care for your own life, dear lady, I beg you to think of that good beast of yours. He will break a leg in yon bog-holes, and then he will have to be shot!"
Barbara had been fully prepared, by now, to listen to reason and check the pace. She knew she had been unreasoning in her excitement. But the fact that Robert knew she had been unreasonable, and dared to show, by his tone as well as by his argument, that he knew it, stirred a hot resentment in her heart. In a flash she forgot that she had ever been unreasonable at all. Her first impulse was to spur on with added speed. Had it been her own neck, merely, that she would risk, she would not have hesitated. But Robert had hit on the one compelling plea. She could not face the risk of hurt to her horse, or to any kindly beast whatever. She reined in sharply, therefore, without a word; and at a walk the two horses began to pick their wary way over the corduroy.
"There's danger to the good beasts, even at this pace," remarked Robert, with more truthfulness than tact.
"Did you suppose," retorted Barbara, in a voice of withering scorn, "that I was going to ride my Black Prince at a gallop over such a piece of road as this?"
This was exactly what Robert had supposed, of course. But a sudden ray of insight entering his candid brain in time, he refrained from saying so. He was on the point of saying, however, by way of explanation, that the ground which Barbara had already insisted upon traversing at full speed was but little better than this; but here, too, a sharpening perception checked him. He kept silence, seemingly absorbed in guiding his horse between the miry pitfalls, until they found themselves once again on firm ground,—firm but rough. The horses, still apprehensive, showed no disposition to resume their vehement gait.
"It's an outrage," cried Robert, "that the township should permit such a piece of road as this. I shall have a voice in affairs here in three or four years, and then I'll see that the road-work is properly done. I'll have no traps in this township to break good horses' legs!"
This sentiment was so much to Barbara's taste that she found it an excuse for being mollified.