'Folk say your stables at Raglan are like other some Raglan
matters--of the infernal sort.'

Scudamore was silent for a moment.

'Whether the stables be under the pavement or over the leads,' he
returned at last, 'there are not a few in them as good as she--of
which I hope to satisfy my Lady some day,' he added, patting the
mare's neck.

'Wert thou not hurt already, I would pitch thee out of the saddle,'
said Richard.

'Were I not hurt in the knee, thou couldst not,' said Scudamore.

'I need not lay hand upon thee. Wert thou as sound in limb as thou
art in wind, thou wouldst feel thyself on the road ere thou knewest
thou hadst taken leave of the saddle--did I but give the mare the
sign she knows.'

'By God's grace,' said the cavalier, 'she shall be mine, and teach
me the trick of it.'

Richard answered only with a grim laugh, and again, but more gently
this time, quickened the mare's pace. Little more had passed between
them when the six-sided towers of Raglan rose on their view.

Richard had, from childhood, been familiar with their aspect,
especially that of the huge one called the Yellow Tower, but he had
never yet been within the walls that encircled them. At any time