bout and found the side-saddle and bridle in the
harness-room. Everything was in tip-top order there--glass sides for
keeping the dust off the four-in-hand harness and all that kind of
thing. All the bits and stirrup-irons like silver. There wasn't much
time lost in saddling-up, you bet!

We watched pretty close lest Moran should take a new fancy into his
head, but he stuck to the brandy bottle, and very soon put himself from
fighting or anything else. I wasn't sorry to see it. I was well aware he
was as treacherous as a dingo, and could sham dead or anything else to
gain his ends and throw people off their guards.

Well, the horses were brought out, and when Mr. Knightley lifted his
wife up on to her saddle on the high-crested gray thoroughbred with a
dash of Arab blood from an old Satellite strain, I guess he was never
better pleased with anything in the world. They looked in each other's
eyes for a minute, and then the old horse started off along the road
to Bathurst with his fast, springy walk. Starlight took off his hat
and bowed low in the most respectful way. Mrs. Knightley turned in her
saddle and tried to say something, but the words wouldn't come--she
could only wave her hand--and then her head went down nearly to her
saddle. The doctor scrambled on to his horse's back, and trotted off
after her. The gray moved off, shaking his head, at a beautiful, easy,
springy canter. We raised a cheer, and they swept round a corner of the
road and out of sight.

'You'll find these rather good, Captain,' says Mr. Knightley, handing
Starlight his cigar-case. 'There's a box upstairs in my dressing-room.
If you'll allow me I'll order in dinner. There ought to be something
decent if my old cook hasn't been frightened out of his life, but
I think he has seen too much to be put out of his way by a little
shooting.'

'Now I think of it,' says Starlight, 'I do really feel disposed for
refreshment. I say, Wall, see if you can't get that ferocious friend
of yours into a room where he can sleep off his liquor. I really must
apologise for his bad manners; but you see how the case stands.'

'Perfectly, my dear fellow,' says Mr. Knightley. 'Don't mention it. I
shall always feel personally indebted to you for far more than I can
express. But let that pass for the present. What shall we do to pass the
evening? You play picquet and hazard, of course?'

'Do I not,' says Starlight, his eyes lighting up in a way I didn't
remember. 'It's