"And serves him right, too," said one of the colts.

I thought the same, but my mother did not join with us.

"Well, no," she said, "you must not say that; but though I am an old
horse, and have seen and heard a great deal, I never yet could make out
why men are so fond of this sport; they often hurt themselves, often
spoil good horses, and tear up the fields, and all for a hare, or a fox,
or a stag, that they could get more easily some other way; but we are
only horses, and don't know."

While my mother was saying this, we stood and looked on. Many of the
riders had gone to the young man; but my master was the first to raise
him. His head fell back and his arms hung down, and every one looked
very serious. There was no noise now; even the dogs were quiet, and
seemed to know that something was wrong. They carried him to our
master's house. I heard afterwards that it was the squire's only son, a
fine, tall young man, and the pride of his family.

They were now riding in all directions--to the doctor's, and to Squire
Gordon's, to let him know about his son. When Bond, the farrier, came to
look at the black horse that lay groaning on the grass, he felt him all
over, and shook his head; one of his legs was broken. Then some one ran
to our master's house and came back with a gun; presently there was a
loud bang and a dreadful shriek, and then all was still; the black horse
moved no more.

My mother seemed much troubled; she said she had known that horse for
years, and that his name was Rob Roy; he was a good horse, and there was