was, indeed, in better case than its master. 'It is
sleek enough, any way!'

'It is as good as it looks,' I answered, a little nettled by his tone.

'There is a better here,' he responded.

'I don't see it,' I said. I had already eyed the nags all round, and
assured myself that, ugly and blemished as they were, they were up to
their work. But I had discerned no special merit among them. I looked
them over again now, and came to the same conclusion--that, except the
led horses, which I had chosen with some care, there was nothing among
them to vie with the Cid, either in speed or looks. I told Fresnoy so.

'Would you like to try?' he said tauntingly.

I laughed, adding, 'If you think I am going to tire our horses by racing
them, with such work as we have before us, you are mistaken, Fresnoy. I
am not a boy, you know.'

'There need be no question of racing,' he answered more quietly. 'You
have only to get on that rat-tailed bay of Matthew's to feel its paces
and say I am right.'

I looked at the bay, a bald-faced, fiddle-headed horse, and saw that,
with no signs of breeding, it was still a big-boned animal with good
shoulders and powerful hips. I thought it possible Fresnoy might be
right, and if so, and the bay's manners were tolerable, it might do for
mademoiselle better than the horse I had chosen. At any rate, if we had
a fast horse among us, it was well to know the fact, so bidding Matthew
change with me, and be careful of the Cid, I mounted the bay, and
soon discovered that its paces were easy and promised speed, while its
manners seemed as good as even a timid rider could desire.

Our road at the time lay across a flat desolate heath, dotted here and
there with, thorn-bushes; the track being broken and stony, extended
more than a score of yards in width, through travellers straying to this
side and that to escape the worst places. Fresnoy and I, in making the
change, had fallen slightly behind the other three, and were riding
abreast of Matthew on the Cid.

'Well,' he said, 'was I not right?'

'In part,' I answered. 'The horse is better than its looks.'

'Like many others,' he rejoined, a spark of resentment in his tone--'men
as well as horses, M. de Marsac. But What do you say? Shall we canter on
a little and overtake the others?'

Thinking it well to do so, I assented readily, and we started together.
We had ridden, however, no more than a hundred yards, and I was only
beginning to extend the bay, w