The Marquis 



Marquis had galloped a hundred yards past 

 Williams before anyone noticed him at all, then he 

 heard one man near him shouting, '* 'Ware horse; 

 someone's down — but he hasn't a stitch of 

 leather!" The Marquis increased his pace and 

 followed Fullerton so closely over a stiffish 

 post and rail that the latter turned in his 

 saddle and swore, but the words remained 

 half said; his lower jaw hung open, and 

 his eyes were round with wonder. The Marquis 

 was galloping beside him, head out-stretched and 

 eyes bright, half a dozen yards away without even 

 deigning a look; he meant to give Fullerton the 

 ride of his life, something to talk about for years 

 to come, and to make him moan in his sleep. 



"Where'd that horse come from, Fullerton.^" 

 the master yelled back over his shoulder. "Isn't 

 that your old cripple; it looks like the Marquis 

 to me." 



But Fullerton only swallowed hard and blinked 

 his astonished eyes in a dazed sort of way as if 

 he had suddenly seen a ghost. 



WiUiams had recognized the Marquis too, and 

 was spurring on the brown gelding. "See here, 

 Fullerton," he called, "isn't that your old chest- 

 nut? I thought you said he was — " but Fullerton 

 only shook his h^^4 hopelessly and gesticulated 

 in the air^ 



23 



