over, it will make a fair lady's saddle. Allow me, Lady Ruth."

They are speedily mounted. Aunt Gwen seems quite at home on a horse,
which she has ridden many times in the Blue Grass regions of Kentucky.
As to Philander, the same does not apply. He acts as though in deadly
fear of being pitched over the animal's head. The fates decree that the
largest horse of all falls to his lot, a raw-boned, loose-jointed
specimen of equine growth, and the little professor looks like a monkey
perched aloft.

If the beast ever had any martial ardor, it has long ago died out, and
yet to the excited fancy of the professor, he might as well be upon the
back of a prancing, rearing, snorting war-horse. When the equine wonder
shakes his long ears, Philander imagines he is about to perform some
amazing trick, and, filled with a new dread, he clasps his arms around
the poor creature's neck, and calls out:

"Whoa! there's a good fellow--be quiet now! I wouldn't hurt you, boy!
Whoa! I say. Hang me if I don't believe you've got the devil in you.
Want to kill me, eh? No, you don't. Easy now, you rascal. Whoa, whoa!"

Fortunately for Philander the horse follows the lead of the others, and
the professor is not left behind.

All seems working well.

Sir Lionel, the undaunted veteran, can afford to smile. Success is
apparently assured, for they have gone some little distance, and only
now do the clamorous sounds from their rear indicate a commotion.