on the hard sand close to the water-line. It was an awful windy day late in October, with the clouds hangin' low an' the waves dashin' high, and everything sort o' empty an' lonesome. Blue Gypsy was n't used to the water, an' she was so scared she was 'most crazy, rearin' an' plungin' till ye would a swore she had a dozen legs—not much of a horse for a lady, but Miss Ethel could ride all right. She kept Blue Gypsy's head to the wind an' galloped four or five miles up the beach, with me poundin' along behind, hangin' on to me hat for dear life.
"’Twas ebb-tide, but time for the flood, and I was beginning to think we'd better go back, unless we wanted to plough through the loose shingle high up, which is mighty hard on a horse, sir. But when we come to the Neck, Miss Ethel rode straight on; I did n't like the looks of it much, but I did n't say nothin' for the Neck's never under water an' there were n't no danger. But what does she do when we comes to the end o' the Neck, but
