e, then through a
dark wood, then uphill, then downhill, till after an eight miles' run,
we came to the town, through the streets and into the market-place. It
was all quite still except the clatter of my feet on the
stones--everybody was asleep. The church clock struck three as we drew
up at Dr. White's door. John rang the bell twice, and then knocked at
the door like thunder. A window was thrown up, and the doctor, in his
night-cap, put his head out and said, "What do you want?"

"Mrs. Gordon is very ill, sir; master wants you to go at once; he thinks
she will die if you cannot get there. Here is a note."

"Wait," he said, "I will come."

He shut the window and was soon at the door. "The worst of it is," he
said, "that my horse has been out all day, and is quite done up; my son
has just been sent for, and he has taken the other. What is to be done?
Can I have your horse?"

"He has come at a gallop nearly all the way, sir, and I was to give him
a rest here; but I think my master would not be against it, if you think
fit, sir."

"All right," he said; "I will soon be ready."

John stood by me and stroked my neck. I was very hot. The doctor came
out with his riding-whip. "You need not take that, sir," said John;
"Black Beauty will go till he drops. Take care of him, sir, if you can;
I should not like any harm to come to him."

"No, no, John," said the doctor, "I hope not," and in a minute we had
left John far behind.

[Illustration]

I will not tell about our way back. The doctor was a heavier man than
John, and not so good a rider; however, I did my very best. The man at
the toll-gate had it open. When we came to the hill, the doctor drew me
up. "Now, my good fellow," he said, "take some breath." I was glad he
did, for I was nearly spent, but that breathing helped me on, and soon
we were in the park. Joe was at the lodge gate; my master was at the
Hall door, for he had heard us coming. He spoke not a word; the doctor
went into the house with him, and Joe led me to the stable. I was glad
to get home; my legs shook under me, and I could only stand and pant. I
had not a dry hair on my body, the water ran down my legs, and I steamed
all over--Joe used to say, like a pot on the fire. Poor Joe! he was
young and small, and as yet he knew very little, and his father, who
would have helped him, had been sent to the next village; but I am sure
he did the very best he knew. He rubbed my legs and my chest, but he did
not