The Marquis 



^F 



pink, riding his flea-bitten gray and beside him 

 Williams on the thoroughbred brown gelding. At 

 the same instant came again that familiar sound, 

 which had become part of the Marquis's life, from 

 somewhere off in the distance — that single, repeat- 

 ed inspiring note of the horn — and he galloped 

 madly about in the pasture, stopping first here 

 and then there to listen, until he had caught the 

 direction. Then he stood quietly until Fullerton 

 and Williams had passed. He watched them walk 

 leisurely on, over the meadows below, opening 

 a gate now and again — then they, too, heard the 

 horn, and put their horses into a brisk canter 

 straight for the top of the hill. 



The Marquis could easily follow the bright pink 

 of Fullerton's coat and saw moving about here and 

 there on the crest of the hill beyond, silhouetted 

 against the gray sky, other bright spots of color — 

 the master and whips and a few of the field — al- 

 ready assembled, while an uneasy rabble of brown 

 and white leaped about on the ground. He waited 

 until they had passed over the crest of the hill, 

 then he whirled away from the fence a few strides, 

 and without effort jumped cleanly over. Now he 

 listened again for a moment, head erect and body 

 trembling with excitement. All was silence. 

 Then down the wind came a faint sound — hardly 

 distinguishable at first except to the veteran ear — 

 21 



