he managed so well, and as we swept along I kept my eyes upon her in a
kind of wonder. It was so new to me, and the skill with which her small
hand managed her mettled horse was nothing short of a marvel.

We did not talk much during this part of our ride. Occasionally she
would fling a remark across at me above the thud of the hammering feet,
but I think the beauty of the night and the wonderful silence sat upon
our minds, and made our tongues unwilling for speech. Sometimes the
road was open and clear, and then I could see her eyes, like veiled
stars. And around and about us were fields of growing corn and ripening
wheat, and infolding us close, as in a filmy garment, was that
indescribable odor of green things and of dew-wet turf. Then the pike
would sweep around a curve, like the stretch of a winding river, and
bordering each side of the highway were clumps and rows of gigantic
forest-trees. Oftentimes their boughs would intertwine above, and what
seemed to be the black mouth of a tunnel would confront us. Into this
apparent pit of darkness we would dash, but the horses never shied. They
knew well the ground their fleet hoofs were spurning, and they knew that
farther on was home,--a good stall, and a rack full of musky clover hay.
Under the trees I could not see Salome. Now and again some sparks of
fire would shoot out when a hoof struck a stone. Then out into the open
again. The pace our steeds had assumed of their own free will was no
mean one, and when scarcely an hour had gone we were riding slowly
through the meadow to the big whitewashed gate giving entrance to the
yard. The young moon had grown weary, and tumbled out of the sky; but
the stars seemed brighter--they looked as though the dew which sparkled
on the grass below us had washed their tiny faces on its way to earth.
The Milky Way appeared as a phantom lace curtain stretched across the
sky.

I opened the gate from my horse, and held it back for Salome to pass
through. When she had done this, I followed, and the gate clanged back.
The noise of its shutting notified Inky and Jim of our arrival, for they
were waiting sleepily as we came up to the fine stone steps of the old
home, and at once took charge of the horses. I helped Salome up the
steps by placing my hand beneath her elbow. We stood for a moment on the
edge of the porch.

"We must move around gently," I suggested. "The old folks have doubtless
been asleep an hour."

"Bless their dear hearts!"