Hell, kept for his own use, and even it has been
said under the shelter of his own tent. I took him in discharge of the
debt, and I ordered the varlets who had haltered him to leave him alone
in the water-meadow, for I have heard that the beast has indeed a most
evil spirit, and has killed more men than one."

"It was an ill day for Waverley that you brought such a monster within
its bounds," said the Abbot. "If the subprior and Brother John be indeed
dead, then it would seem that if the horse be not the Devil he is at
least the Devil's instrument."

"Horse or Devil, holy father, I heard him shout with joy as he trampled
upon Brother John, and had you seen him tossing the subprior as a dog
shakes a rat you would perchance have felt even as I did."

"Come then," cried the Abbot, "let us see with our own eyes what evil
has been done."

And the three monks hurried down the stair which led to the cloisters.

They had no sooner descended than their more pressing fears were set at
rest, for at that very moment, limping, disheveled and mud-stained, the
two sufferers were being led in amid a crowd of sympathizing brethren.
Shouts and cries from outside showed, however, that some further drama
was in progress, and both Abbot and sacrist hastened onward as fast
as the dignity of their office would permit, until they had passed the
gates and gained the wall of the meadow. Looking over it, a remarkable
sight presented itself to their eyes.

Fetlock deep in the lush grass there stood a magnificent horse, such a
horse as a sculptor or a soldier might thrill to see. His color was a
light chestnut, with mane and tail of a more tawny tint. Seventeen hands
high, with a barrel and haunches which bespoke tremendous strength, he
fined down to the most delicate lines of dainty breed in neck and crest
and shoulder. He was indeed a glorious sight as he stood there, his
beautiful body leaning back from his wide-spread and propped fore
legs, his head craned high, his ears erect, his mane bristling, his red
nostrils opening and shutting with wrath, and his flashing eyes turning
from side to side in haughty menace and defiance.

Scattered round in a respectful circle, six of the Abbey lay servants
and foresters, each holding a halter, were creeping toward him. Every
now and then, with a beautiful toss and swerve and plunge, the
great creature would turn upon one of his would-be captors, and with
outstretched head, flying mane and flashing