he reins just as the boy was turning toward the track, where a
whitewashed board fence stood over four feet high.

"Wait--whar you gwine! Forty mile! Whar you gwine? Wait!"

"Over into the track. That fence is nothing."

He settled himself in the saddle, and the horse threw up his head and
drew himself together. But old Robin was too quick for him. He clutched
the rider by the leg with one hand at the same time that he seized the
bridle with the other.

"Git off him; git off him!" Without letting go the bridle, he half
lifted the boy from the saddle.

"That won't hurt him, Uncle Robin. He 's used to it. That fence is
nothing."

"Gi' me dis hoss dis minute. Forty mile, an' 'spec' to run to-morrow!
Gi' me dis hoss dis minute, boy."

The young owner yielded with a laugh, and the old trainer took
possession of the horse, and led him on, stopping every now and then to
run his hand over his sinewy neck and forelegs, and grumbling to himself
over the rashness of youth.

"Jes like he pa," he muttered. "Never could teach him to tek keer o' a
hoss. Think all a hoss got to do is to run! Forty mile, an' want to put
him at a five-foot fence when he cold as a wedge!"

When he was inside the stable his manner changed. His coat was off in
an instant, and no stable-boy could have been more active. He set about
grooming the horse with the enthusiasm of a boy, and the horse after the
first inquisitive investigation of his new attendant, made with eye and
nose, gave himself up to his care. The young owner did the same, only
watching him closely to learn the art of grooming from a past-master of
the craft.

It was the first time in years that Robin had played hostler; and it was
the first time in his life that that horse had ever had such a grooming.
Every art known to the professor of the science was applied. Every
muscle was rubbed, every sinew was soothed. And from time to time, as
at touch of the iron muscles and steel sinews the old fellow's ardor
increased, he would straighten up and give a loud puff of satisfaction.

"Umph! Ef I jist had about a week wid him, I 'd show 'em som'n'!" he
declared. "Imported Learn----"

"He don't need any time. He can beat anything in this country," asserted
the owner from his perch on a horse-bucket.

"You ain' see 'em all," said Robin, dryly, as he bent once more to his
work. "An' it 's goin' to rain, too," he added, as the rumble of thunder
came up louder from the westward.

"That 's