ken before the pony's
will showed any signs of being broken. However, patience and kindness,
combined with firmness, eventually won the day; and Michael, with
considerable pride announced that "Sable," as it had been decided to
call him, was ready for use.

Mr. Lloyd thought it best to ride Sable for a week or two before Bert
should mount him, and to this arrangement Bert was nothing loath, for
the pony's actions while in process of being broken in had rather
subdued his eagerness to trust himself upon him. As it chanced, Mr.
Lloyd came very near paying a severe penalty for his thoughtfulness. He
had been out several mornings on Sable, and had got along very well. One
morning while he was in the act of mounting, the gate suddenly slammed
behind him with a loud bang. The pony at once started off at full
gallop. Mr. Lloyd succeeded in throwing himself into the saddle, but
could not get his feet into the stirrups, and when the frightened
creature upon which he had so insecure a hold swerved sharply round at
the end of the street, he was hurled from his seat like a stone from a
catapult, and fell headlong, striking his right temple upon the hard
ground.

A few minutes later Mrs. Lloyd was startled by a hasty rap at the door,
and on opening it beheld her husband supported between two men, his face
ghastly pale, and stained with blood from a wound on his forehead. She
was a brave woman, and although her heart almost stood still with
agonised apprehension, she did not lose control of herself for an
instant. Directing Mr. Lloyd to be carried into the parlour and laid
gently upon the sofa, Mrs. Lloyd bathed his head and face while Mary
chafed his hands; and presently, to their unspeakable joy, he recovered
consciousness. Fortunately, his injuries proved to be comparatively
slight. Beyond a cut on his forehead, a bad headache, and a general
shaking up, he had suffered no material injury, and he would not listen
to Mrs. Lloyd's finding any fault with Sable for the accident.

"Tut! tut! Kate," said he; "the pony was not to blame at all. Any horse
might have been frightened by a gate banging to at his heels. The fault
was mine in not seeing that the gate was shut before I mounted. No; no,
you must not blame poor, little Sable."

Curiously enough, Bert had a somewhat similar experience shortly after
he began to ride Sable. At a little distance from the house was a hill
up which the street led, and then down the other side out int