dea that Murty might saddle a horse and come out in
pursuit; and a hand-to-hand encounter with the justly indignant
Irishman was just at that moment the last thing that the boy wanted. So
he decided upon the bush paddock, and headed in that direction.

Now, a horse that is always ridden by one person is apt to develop
ideas of his own--possibly through acquiring habits insensibly from his
usual rider. Also, he becomes accustomed to that one rider, and is
quite likely to be annoyed by a change--not alone in weight and in style
of riding, but in the absence of the sympathy that always exists
between a horse so managed and the one who cares for him and
understands him. The alien hand on his mouth had irritated Bobs from
the first; it was heavy, and jerky, where Norah's touch was as a
feather; and the light, firm seat in the saddle was changed for a
weight that bumped and shifted continuously. Further, it was not very
usual for Norah to ride in this direction--he had headed naturally for
the second gate before his tender mouth was suddenly wrenched aside
towards the third. Bobs arrived at the gate in something considerably
removed from his usual contented state of mind.

The gate was awkward, and Cecil clumsy at shutting it; he hauled the
pony's mouth roughly in his efforts to bring him into position where he
could send home the catch. The same performance was repeated at the
next gate--the one leading into the bush paddock; and when at length
they turned from it Bobs' mouth was feeling the bit in a manner that
was quite new to him, and as unpleasant as new. He sidled off in a
rough, jerky walk, betraying irritation in every movement, had Cecil
been wise enough to know it.

Cecil, however, was still perfectly content. He was out of sight of the
house, which was comforting in itself; while as for the idea that he
was not completely master of his mount, he would have been highly
amused at it. It was pleasant to be out, in the morning freshness; and
there was no need to hurry home, since the scones and tea in the
kitchen had made him independent of breakfast. The paddock he was in
looked interesting, too; the plain ended in a line of rough,
scrub-grown hills which it occurred to him would be a good place to
explore. He headed towards them.

Bobs walked on, inwardly seething; jerking his head impatiently at the
unceasing pressure on his bit, and now and then giving a little half
kick that at length attracted Cecil's attenti