WITH CARL OF THE HILL 25 



I am free to admit that it was not without a feeUng 

 of concern that I noticed Carl starting on the journey, 

 the reins lying loose on Nora's back. During the 

 whole of that long distance Carl never once took a 

 pull at the mare's mouth, nor do I remember that he 

 ever once so much as stirred the reins except when 

 we had to turn to right or left. Then he would just 

 raise a rein, letting it fall again on the creature's back. 

 And little time had he to bestow on any remarks of 

 mine, for he was talking almost continually to Nora in 

 a low voice as we went along. And the mare as if 

 stirred by the magic of sympathy would shake her 

 pretty head, and seem to answer every word. And 

 sometimes when, getting beyond herself, she would 

 begin to reach out and extend herself into a slashing 

 stride, Carl would only say in his quiet accents, 

 " Gently, Nora ; gently, you dear Nora." And then 

 the mare would drop back into paces self-contained, 

 though the sweat was streaming down her flanks and 

 she shook her bridle till the foam flew again. 



There are some things that stand out above all 

 others when I look back on those days with Carl of 

 the Hill. I remember the first sight of the clearing in 

 the forest, I remember the elk-hunt, I remember the 

 wonderful drive. But oftenest I recall that evening 

 on the hill above the sater, for there Carl told me the 



