One day there was a market at a town some eight or nine miles off, and thither¹, for lack of anything else to do, Francis had gone to display himself and his pony², which he was riding with so tight a curb³ that the poor thing every now and then reared in protest against the agony he suffered.

 

On one of these occasions Don was on the point of falling backward, when a brown wrinkled hand laid hold of him by the head, half pulling the reins⁴ from his rider’s hand, and ere he had quite settled again on his forelegs, had unhooked the chain of his curb, and fastened it some three links looser. Francis was more than indignant, even when he saw that the hand was Mr. Barclay’s: was he to be treated as one who did not know what he was about!

 

‘Hoots, my man!’ said David gently, ‘there’s no occasion to put a water-chain upo’ the bonny beastie: he has a mou like a leddy’s! and to hae ’t linkit up sae ticht is naething less nor tortur til ’im!—It’s a won’er to me he hasna brocken your banes and his ain back thegither, puir thing!’ he added, patting and stroking the spirited little creature that stood sweating and trembling.

 

‘I thank you, Mr. Barclay,’ said Francis insolently⁶, ‘but I am quite able to manage the brute⁷ myself. You seem to take me for a fool!’

 

‘’Deed, he’s no far aff ane ’at cud ca’ a bonny cratur like that a brute!’ returned David, nowise pleased to discover such hardness in one whom he would gladly treat like a child of his own. It was a great disappointment to him to see the lad getting farther away from the possibility of being helped by him. ‘What ’ud yer father say to see ye illuse ony helpless bein! Yer father was awfu guid til ’s horse-fowk.’

 

The last word was one of David’s own: he was a great lover of animals.

 

‘I’ll do with my own as I please!’ cried Francis, and spurred the pony to pass David. But one stalwart hand held the pony fast, while the other seized his rider by the ankle. The old man was now

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