but
I remember that I enjoyed it. I felt so like an ancient Briton lying in
wait for his enemy. I tried to guess the distance of this strange horse
from me. It is always difficult to judge either distance or location by
sound, when the wind is blowing. The horse hoofs sounded about a quarter
of a mile away. I know not how far they really were. Very soon I could
see the black moving mass coming quietly along the road. The duffle
hoof-wraps made a dull plodding noise near at hand. Nearer the unknown
rider came, suspecting nothing. I could see him bent forward, peering
out ahead. I could even take stock of him, dark though it was. He was a
not very tall man, wearing a full Spanish riding cloak. It seemed to me
that he checked his horse's speed somewhere in the thirty yards before
he passed me. Then, just as he passed, just as I had a full view of him,
blackly outlined against the stars, his horse shied violently at me, on
to the other side of the road. The rider swung him about on the instant
to make him face the danger. I could see him staring down at me, as he
bent forward to pat his horse's neck. I bent my head down so that my
face was hidden in the grass.

The stranger did not see me. I am quite sure that he did not see me. He
turned his horse back along the road for a few snorting paces. Then with
a sounding slap on his shoulder he drove him at a fast pace along the
turf towards me. I heard the brute whinny. He was uneasy; he was trying
to shy; he was twisting away, trying to avoid the strange thing which
lay there. I hid my head no longer. I saw the horse above me. I saw the
rider glaring down. He was going to ride over me. I saw his face, a grey
blur under his hat. The horse seemed to be right on top of me. I started
up to my feet with a cry. The horse shied into the road, with a violence
which made the rider rock. Then, throwing up his head, he bolted towards
the town, half mad with the scare. Fifty yards down the road he tore
past Mr. Jermyn, who was trotting back to pick me up. We heard the
frantic hoofs pass away into the night, growing louder as the duffle
wraps were kicked off. Perhaps you have noticed how the very sound of
the gallop of a scared horse conveys fear. That is what we felt, we two
conspirators, as we talked together, hearing that clattering alarm-note
die away.

"Martin," said Mr. Jermyn. "That was a woman. She chuckled as she
galloped past me."

"Are you sure, sir?" I asked, half-hoping that