"'That was a foot-messenger,' said my boy, contemptuously.

"'It doesn't say so,' retorted the small brother.

"'Well, any way, the camels had been carried off--so what did he ride
upon?'

"A squabble was imminent. I covered my boy's face with a handkerchief,
to keep him quiet.

"'Listen!' I said. 'It's the post. The mail from the north was stopped
on the highway, but he has saved the bags, and is riding hard for
London.'

"'It's--'

"But the new suggestion was drowned in a general shout of--

"'It's coming up the lane!'

"The footfalls had diverged from the main road, and were coming up the
sandy lane that skirted our wall. The boys lifted their heads, and we
sat expectant. There was a pause, and a familiar gate-click, and then
the footfalls broke upon the carriage-road, close by us. A man in
livery, upon a well-groomed horse--nothing more, but rather an
uncommon sight with us. Moreover, the man and his livery were strange,
and the horse looked tired.

"This event broke up the sitting, and we were strolling up to the