Silently she put a side-saddle on my back, and guided me out into the pale starlight, keeping well in the shadow of the barn.
Then mounting, she directed me down a back lane and through a side gate that stood open, though ordinarily it was closed. The moment we reached the highway, she gave the rein a little twitch, saying:
"Now, do your best, Dandy, we have a long journey before us."
The air was just keen enough to be bracing, and I had had no exercise for two days. And this reminds me to say that it is a mistaken kindness that keeps a healthy horse standing without exercise for days, or even one day. Nothing is more tiresome, and ofttimes hurtful. If you do not believe it, try standing in almost the same attitude yourself for a great many hours, lying down occasionally, if you can. I saw a handsome young horse once, with hoofs so abnormally grown and distorted (these are Master's words) from standing for months on a plank floor without exercise, that he could not step. So, nothing averse, I went flying over the smooth road until we came up with a dark figure mounted on a chestnut horse.
"Oh, Paul," Bobby said, "I've had the loveliest ride; and ain't this a romantic elopement?"
Elopement! I saw all then, and wished myself well out of the scrape.
Side by side they galloped on for several hours until I really began to feel jaded.
By-and-by, Bobby said: "I'll have to slow up; Dandy is getting tired, and I would not hurt him for anything. I know Uncle Dick will forgive me for running away, whether the rest do or not; but he'd never forgive me if I hurt this dear old Dandy."
I thought her voice trembled a little at the last.