As the horse swung along in his perfect gait, the great dog making
playful leaps and feinted snaps at his beautiful muzzle with a dog's
derisive smile and sense of humor, and if any one doubts that dogs have
this quality they simply don't know the animal, the girl sang at the top
of her voice.

They covered the ground with incredible swiftness and presently the lane
grew broader, giving evidence of more traffic where a wood road crossed
it at right angles. Just a little beyond this point an old gentleman
appeared in sight. He was walking with his hands clasped behind him and
his head bent to examine every foot of the roadway. Evidently he was too
absorbed to be aware of the trio bearing down upon him. He wore the
clerical garb of the Church of England, and his face would have
attracted attention in any part of the world, it was so pure, so
refined, so like a cameo in its delicacy of outline, and the skin held
the wonderful softness and clearness we sometimes see in old age. He
must have been over seventy.

Just then he became aware of the colt's light hoofbeats and looked up.
He was tall and slight but very erect, and his face lighted up with a
smile absolutely illuminating as he recognized his approaching friends.

The girl bent forward to say:

"One bell, Shashai." Whereupon her mount slackened his gait to the
gentlest amble, but the dog went bounding on to greet the newcomer.
First she dropped down at his feet, burying her nose in her forepaws as
though to make obeisance, but at his words: