lected, if I can. I say, this is just a
glorious chance to learn what I couldn't at home, where houses are thick
and farmers so stubborn they will object to one's riding to hounds
across their property. Howev--"

Monty interrupted, rather jealously:

"Oh! Quit that riding-to-hounds talk! I don't know a thing about
horses--except a saw-horse, that my mother insisted I should work on to
reduce my--"

"'Too, too solid flesh!'" broke in Leslie, laughing now and eager to
watch the inexperienced "fat boy" make his first attempt at grooming a
spirited beast.

But they were apt to break in thus upon each other's remarks and no
offence taken, and they were soon at the stables, where the girls were
already assembled. One glance at his sister, covered from neck to foot
by a brown gingham apron, reminded the fastidious Herbert that he was
not fixed for dirty work, and he promptly begged a set of overalls from
the nearest workman. The other lads followed his example, discarding
jackets and vests, and beginning on their new tasks with a zeal that was
almost too eager.

Even Leslie had done the same, willing for once to try this new game and
see if there was any fun in it, as Herbert seemed to think. But his
fingers shrank from handling the curry comb and brushes, absolutely new
and clean though they were, and the best he accomplished was a
roughening of Caesar's coat which disgusted him as well as the horse. At
last, with a remark that "looking on was good enough for him," he
tossed his brushes aside and signalled an attendant to finish the task
so badly begun. To his amazement, the hostler declined:

"Sorry, Master Leslie, but the Boss's express orders was--have you do it
yourself."

Leslie's eyes flashed. This was insubordination, indeed! Wasn't he
master at San Leon, now? Then Captain Lem drew near, to pick up the
brush and explain in a matter-of-fact way:

"Best never rub anything--nor anybody--the wrong way, lad! This sorrel,
here, 'd be sp'iled in next to no time if his hair ain't smoothed the
way natur' meant it should lie. There. That's how. See how it shines?
And just look at Herbert and his black! By the great horned spoon! Them
two is cronies a'ready--hand-in-glove, pals! And let me say right here
an' now; there ain't no comfortabler love nowhere in this world than
that 'twixt a horse and his owner--if the last has got sense. Now pitch
in, sonny, and don't let nobody get ahead of you on that line. No,
siree! Wha