en suddenly I saw a horse's head, and then I felt some one take hold
of me so firmly that I didn't have to hold myself at all, and I knew I
was safe. Oh, how nice it is to be big and strong!"

Peter thought so too.

So it is the world over. Peter and Mutineer felt happy and proud in
their strength, and Leonore and Fly-away glorified them for it. Yet in
spite of this, as Peter looked down at the curly head, from his own and
Mutineers altitude, he felt no superiority, and knew that the slightest
wish expressed by that small mouth, would be as strong with him as if a
European army obeyed its commands.

"What a tremendous horse you have?" said Leonore. "Isn't he?" assented
Peter. "He's got a bad temper, I'm sorry to say, but I'm very fond of
him. He was given me by my regiment, and was the choice of a very dear
friend now dead."

"Who was that?"

"No one you know. A Mr. Costell."

"Oh, yes I do. I've heard all about him."

"What do you know of Mr. Costell?"

"What Miss De Voe told me."

"Miss De Voe?"

"Yes. We saw her both times in Europe. Once at Nice, and once in--in
1882--at Maggiore. The first time, I was only six, but she used to tell
me stories about you and the little children in the angle. The last time
she told me all she could remember about you. We used to drift about the
lake moonlight nights, and talk about you."

"What made that worth doing to you?"

"Oh from the very beginning, that I can remember, papa was always
talking about 'dear old Peter'"--the talker said the last three words
in such a tone, shot such a look up at Peter, half laughing and half
timid, that in combination they nearly made Peter reel in his
saddle--"and you seemed almost the only one of his friends he did speak
of, so I became very curious about you as a little girl, and then Miss
De Voe made me more interested, so that I began questioning Americans,
because I was really anxious to learn things concerning you. Nearly
every one did know something, so I found out a great deal about you."

Peter was realizing for the first time in his life, how champagne made
one feel.

"Tell me whom you found who knew anything about me?"

"Oh, nearly everybody knew something. That is, every one we've met in
the last five years. Before that, there was Miss De Voe, and grandpapa,
of course, when he came over in 1879--"

"But," interrupted Peter, "I don't think I had met him once before that
time, except at the Shrubberies."

"No, he ha