"Do you call this riding hard?" asked Em in some astonishment.

"Of course I do! It's enough to break the horses' necks, and knock one up
for the whole day besides," he added testily; then twisted his head to look
at the buggy that came on behind. "I thought Waldo was such a mad driver;
they are taking it easily enough today," said Gregory. "One would think
the black stallions were lame."

"I suppose they want to keep out of our dust," said Em. "See, they stand
still as soon as we do."

Perceiving this to be the case, Gregory rode on.

"It's all that horse of yours: she kicks up such a confounded dust, I
can't stand it myself," he said.

Meanwhile the cart came on slowly enough.

"Take the reins," said Lyndall, and "and make them walk. I want to rest
and watch their hoofs today--not to be exhilarated; I am so tired."

She leaned back in her corner, and Waldo drove on slowly in the grey dawn
light along the level road. They passed the very milk-bush behind which so
many years before the old German had found the Kaffer woman. But their
thoughts were not with him that morning: they were the thoughts of the
young, that run out to meet the future, and labour in the present. At last
he touched her arm.

"What is it?"