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"Ned Ferry! What does Ned Ferry know about my fitness?"

"Cruel to you?" I took her hand from my arm and held it.

At the edge of the wood, where we had parted, I tied my horse, and crept along the moonlight shadows of the melon-patch to the stable. The door was ajar. In the interior gloom I passed my hands over the necks and heads of what I recognized to be the pair of small mules I had seen at Gallatin. Near a third stall were pegs for saddle and bridle, but they were empty. So was the stall; the mare was gone.

"Good-morning," he responded, tardily and grimly. "Well, you air in a hurry."

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