THE MAN FROM GLENGARRY
But Mrs. Murray was in the saddle, and the pony was impatient to be off.
"We will go by the Camerons' clearing, and then take their wood track. It is a better road," said Ranald, after they had got through the big gate.
"Now, Ranald, you think I am afraid of the swamp, and by the Camerons' is much longer."
"Indeed, I hear them say that you are not afraid of the—of anything," said Ranald, quickly, "but this road is better for the horses."
"Come on, then, with your colt"; and the pony darted away on her quick-springing gallop, followed by the colt going with a long, easy, loping stride. For a mile they kept side by side till they reached the Camerons' lane, when Ranald held in the colt and allowed the pony to lead. As they passed through the Camerons' yard the big black dogs, famous bear-hunters, came baying at them. The pony regarded them with indifference, but the colt shied and plunged.
"Whoa, Liz!" Liz was Ranald's contraction for Lizette, the name of the French horse-trainer and breeder, Jules La Rocque, gave to her mother, who in her day was queen of the ice at L'Original Christmas races.
"Be quate, Nigger, will you!" The dogs, who knew Ranald well, ceased their clamor, but not before the kitchen door opened and Don Cameron came out.
Don was about a year older than Ranald and was his friend and comrade.
"It's me, Don—and Mrs. Murray there."
Don gazed speechless.
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