was all he knew. Just because she sought to evade him. . . .



His eye caught a whole row of high plumed canes bending in unison,

and then the tails of silk that hung before his neck flapped and fell.

The breeze was growing stronger. Somehow it took the stiff stillness

out of things--and that was well.



"Hullo!" said the gaunt man.



All three stopped abruptly.



"What?" asked the master. "What?"



"Over there," said the gaunt man, pointing up the valley.



"What?"



"Something coming towards us."



And as he spoke a yellow animal crested a rise and came bearing

down upon them. It was a big wild dog, coming before the wind,

tongue out, at a steady pace, and running with such an intensity

of purpose that he did not seem to see the horsemen he approached.

He ran with his nose up, following, it was plain, neither scent

nor quarry. As he drew nearer the little man felt for his sword.

"He's mad," said the gaunt rider.



"Shout!" said the little man, and shouted.



The dog came on. Then when the little man's blade was already out,

it swerved aside and went panting by them and past. The eyes of

the little man followed its flight. "There was no foam," he said.

For a space the man with the silver-studded bridle stared up

the valley. "Oh, come on!" he cried at last. "What does it matter?"

and jerked his horse into movement again.



The little man left the insoluble mystery of a dog that fled from

nothing but the wind, and lapsed into profound musings on human

character. "Come on!" he whispered to himself. "Why should it be

given to one man to say 'Come on!' with that stupendous violence

of effect. Always, all his life, the man with the silver bridle

has been saying that. If _I_ said it--!" thought the little man.

But people marvelled when the master was disobeyed even in the wildest

things. This half-caste girl seemed to him, seemed to every one,

mad--blasphemous almost. The little man, by way of comparison,

reflected on the gaunt rider with the scarred lip, as stalwart as

his master, as brave and, indeed, perhaps braver, and yet for him

there was obedience, nothing but to give obedience duly and stoutly. . .



Certain sensations of the hands and knees called the little man back



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