When the Marquis Came Into His Own 



galloped a trifle more slowly, with his hocks 

 gathered well underneath. 



Soon now it would be time for the colts to be 

 hunting, a short canter and try out to begin with, 

 over small hurdles, that would not be strain 

 enough to hurt them, — for the Marquis now, and 

 the others, were just past three years old. 



Even the Marquis was getting used to the saddle 

 and bridle and the feeling of weight, for old 

 Ephram often rode him, but FuUerton had never 

 been on his back, and only the old stud groom 

 knew what power and courage was there. Indeed 

 Fullerton, against his better nature, had kept 

 putting off day by day, the time when he must 

 ride the Marquis out in the face of a hunting field, 

 though continually he argued with himself that 

 it did not matter, since what real difference should 

 it make to an honest, hard riding man, if his 

 mount could but carry him higher and faster than 

 any other horse in the field. 



The fall hunting had begun now as the leaves 

 dropped off the trees, and lay brittle on the 

 ground below. There was a sharp winter thrill 

 in the air and when a farm dog barked in the 

 distance, or a wagon wheel crunched, it sounded 

 much as it does when the snow is packed on the 

 ground. Twice the Yorkshire Lad, — with Carroll 

 up, in pink, — went cantering by on the way to the 

 121 



