AKFAST

About the time that Colonel May was finishing breakfast, consisting this
particular morning of strawberries raised in his own greenhouse, calf's
brains, omelet, fried apples and bacon, fried sweet potatoes, beaten
biscuits, rice cakes, and coffee, Bob Hart was riding across the open
country toward Arden. His right arm hung limberly down in a graceful
perpendicular, unaffected by the galloping motion of his horse, and his
fingers were clasped about the lock of a repeating rifle, pointed muzzle
to the ground. On his face was stamped a look of stern absorption that
relaxed only as he neared occasional fences, but when these had been
hurdled and his mount had again caught its stride, the preoccupation
returned. Although his eyes were lowered, he did not see the ground, nor
the mild surprise of grazing Jerseys past which he dashed. He saw
nothing now beyond a most unpleasant picture which circumstance was
holding up to him.

Jumping into an open woodland pasture he reined to a more leisurely
canter; for here were the very young colts, now crowding nearer the
protection of their dams, which, in one or two instances, with heads and
tails high, trotted toward this impertinent horseman as though
questioning his right of entrance. They soon abandoned this, but stood
looking after him like watchful sentinels until he had risen to the next
fence, and they felt that their foals were free from menace. But he
cantered on, hardly mindful of their unrest. Through ancient beeches now
he went, trees whose downward sweeping boughs spread out in mute
protection above the carpet of spring grass and violets; then he turned
into the cedar-bordered avenue, and soon passed between the crumbling
brick-and-plaster gate-posts to the tangled yard of Arden.

It was then, glancing across the side terrace, that Colonel May observed
him, and laying aside his napkin he went somewhat hastily through the
cool, deep hall and out upon the front porch. A tender expression
lingered about his strong face as the younger man swung into the circle;
a tenderness mingled with approval for the stylish animal that picked up
its feet from the odorous tanbark with a precision bespeaking
generations of thoroughbred ancestors. The Colonel was a great believer
in breeding.

Only when Bob dismounted did the old gentleman see the rifle, and the
seriousness in his eyes. He made no move or comment, but waited while a
darky led back the horse and Bob was seated.