He had taken Juno into the stable, and was unsaddling her there.
“Come here,” he called, “and put up your own beast.”
I guessed pretty well what he meant by that. The stable was a small one, with only one little grated window high up, and a thick door. Could he lock me in there, I should be quiet enough for the rest of the evening.
Happily for me Martin was a dull fool as well as a great villain, and he betrayed his purpose by the glitter of his eye too clearly for any one to mistake him. I strolled carelessly up towards the door, and as I did so he left the horse and came to meet me.
“Come in here,” said he, “and let’s see how you can rub down a horse.”
“I don’t need you to show me,” said I. “Look at her there, with her mane all in a twist and her fetlock grazed by your clumsy pail.”
He turned round to look, and in that moment I had the door shut on him and the key turned on the outside. I knew that the door, which was thick enough to stand a horse’s kick, had nothing to fear from his. And as to his noise, there would be no one to heed that. He would be safe there till morning, and there were oats enough in the place to keep him and Juno both from starving.
This business done, I hastened back to the house, and sought Miss Kit, to whom I told everything.
“Father will not be home to-night,” said she bravely. “We must do the best we can, Barry.”
“We’ll do better than that, plaze God,” said I.