with creel on back, and rod over his shoulder, evidently
returning from one of the higher streams after a day's fishing.

Mark's heart beat a little faster, and he nipped his cob's sides; but
the patient animal would not alter its steady walk, which was at about
the same rate as the fisher's, and consequently Mark had to sit and
watch his enemy's back, as, unconscious of his presence, Ralph trudged
on homeward, with one arm across his back to ease up the creel, which
was fairly heavy with the delicate burden of grayling it contained, the
result of a very successful day.

"He has his sword on this time," said Mark to himself, "and I've got
mine."

The lad touched the hilt, to make sure it had not been jerked out of the
scabbard during his ride.

"Just a bit farther on yonder," he muttered, gazing at the steep slope
of a limestone hill to his right, and a mile distant, "there are some
nice level bits of turf. I can overtake him then, and we can have a bit
of a talk together."

The cob walked steadily on, avoiding awkward places better than his
master could have guided him, and suddenly stopped short at a rocky
pool, where a little spring of water gushed from the foot of a steep
slope, and lowered its head to drink.

"You don't want water now," said Mark angrily; and he tightened the
rein, but his cob had a mouth like leather; and caring nothing for the
bit, bore upon it heavily, stretched out his neck, and had a long deep
drink.

"I wish I had spurs on," muttered Mark; "I'd give you a couple of such
digs, my fine fellow."

Then he sat thinking.

"Good job I haven't got any on. I should trip, for certain, when we
were at it."

Then the cob raised its dripping mouth, which it had kept with lips very
close together, to act as a strainer to keep out tadpoles,
water-beetles, leeches, or any other unpleasant creatures that might be
in the water, took two or three steps back and aside, and then, noticing
that there was a goodly patch of rich juicy herbage close by the spring,
it lowered its head once more, uttered a snort as it blew the grass
heavily, to drive off any flies that might be nestling among the
strands, and began to crop, crop at the rich feed.

"Oh come, I'm not going to stand that," cried Mark, dragging at the
pony's head. "You're so full of oats now that you can hardly move, and
he'll be looking back directly, and thinking I'm afraid to come on."

The cob's head was up: so was its obstinate natu