are Charles Hamon and Nancy Godfray come
together at last. And high time too! They've been beating about the bush
till we're all tired of watching them. B'jou, Nancy! B'jou, Charles! All
joy to you!"
There were many such meetings, for we could see the riders' heads bobbing
in every lane. And twice we met young Torode, galloping at speed, and
showing to great advantage on Black Boy, whose ruffled black coat was
streaked with sweat and splashed with foam, and who was evidently not
enjoying himself at all.
"I'm getting the devil out of him so that he'll be all quiet for the
afternoon," cried Torode, as he sped past us one time. And Gray Robin tried
to look after his mate, and jogged comfortably along thanking his stars
that if he did feel somewhat of a fool, he had decent quiet folk on his
back, and was not as badly off as some he knew that day.
So we came along the horse tracks down by Pointe Robert and crossed the
head of the Harbour Road, past Derrible, and heard the sea growling at the
bottom of the Creux, and then over Hog's Back into Dixcart Valley, and so,
about noon, into the road over the Common which led to the Coupee.
Most of our friends were already there,--some on this side waiting to
cross, the more venturesome sitting in the heather and bracken on the
farther side, with jokes and laughter and ironical invitations to the
laggards to take their courage in their hands and come over.
There was quite a mob in the roadway on the Common, the girls sitting on
their horses, most of the men on foot.
"How is the path?" I asked, as I got down for a look.
"I've seen it better and I've seen it worse," said Charles Vaudin. "But,
all the same, you know,--on horseback--" and he shook his head doubtfully.
"When it's only your own feet you have to look after it's right enough,"
said Elie Guerin. "But when it's a horse's and they're four feet apart it's
a different kind of game. I'm going to lead over, let those others say what
they will. Will you walk, Judi, or will you ride? I can lead the old boy
all right."
"I can trust you, mon gars," said the girl, and kept her seat while Elie
led the horse slowly and cautiously over the narrow way, with possible
death in every foot of it. And all the rest watched anxiously.
The path was at this time about four feet wide in most places, crumbly and
weather-worn here and there, but safe enough for ordinary foot traffic. But
even so--without a rail on either side, with t
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