e, "for Fanny's sake, if for nothing else; though I
cannot conceive what she can see to like in him. There is no accounting
for taste!"

"I can at all events _die_;"--thought Queeker, as he rode along, shaking
the reins and pressing his little legs against the horse as if with the
savage intention of squeezing the animal's ribs together.

"There _was_ prophetic inspiration in the lines!--yes," he continued,
repeating them--

"Fly, fly, to earth's extremest bounds,
With huntsmen, horses, horn, and hounds,
And die--dejected Queeker!

"I'll change that--it shall be rejected Queeker _now_."

For some time Tom Stoutheart and Queeker rode over "hill and dale"--that
is to say, they traversed four miles of beautiful undulating and
diversified country at a leisurely pace, having started in good time.

"Your father," observed Queeker, as they rode side by side down a green
lane, "said, I think, when we started, that this horse was apt to be
skittish at the start. Is he difficult to hold in?"

"Oh no," replied Tom, with a reassuring smile. "He is as quiet and
manageable as any man could wish. He does indeed bounce about a little
when we burst away at first, and is apt then to get the bit in his
teeth; but you've only to keep a tight rein and he'll go all right. His
only fault is a habit of tossing his head, which is a little awkward
until you get used to it."

"Yes, I have discovered that fault already," replied Queeker, as the
horse gave a practical illustration of it by tossing his enormous head
back until it reached to within an inch of the point of his rider's
nose. "Twice he has just touched my forehead. Had I been bending a
little forward I suppose he would have given me an unpleasant blow."

"Rather," said Stoutheart junior. "I knew one poor fellow who was
struck in that way by his horse and knocked off insensible. I think he
was killed, but don't feel quite sure as to that."

"He has no other faults, I hope?" asked Queeker.

"None. As for refusing his leaps--he refuses nothing. He carries my
father over anything he chooses to run him at, so it's not likely that
he'll stick with a light-weight."

This was so self-evident that Queeker felt a reply to be unnecessary; he
rode on, therefore, in silence for a few minutes, comforting himself
with the thought that, at all events, he could die!

"I don't intend," said Queeker, after a few minutes' consideration, "to
attempt to leap everything. I th