FOUNDER OF HIS RACE 125 



light showed Stone it was no longer there. But invol- 

 untarily, he refrained from guiding or sug'gesting to 

 the horse any course of action. The reins lay loose even 

 when Morgan paused at the brink of the torrent. 



Leaning forward, Stone patted the horse's neck gently, 

 and said in a soothing voice : 



"Steady, Boy, steady !" 



Morgan responded. 



He could see with his keen eyes, the white, turbid 

 water, below the very place where the bridge had been — 

 one stringer alone of the structure remained, and this 

 was scarce above the violent current ! The rushing, 

 churning water swirled against the banks impetuously. 



Cautiously, the horse tried the wide beam with one 

 foot. Feelino- it secure, he tried another ; in the inkv 

 darkness, he pushed his feet along gently, lest he step 

 on an upstanding nail. 



Steadily, firmly, without wavering, without — above all 

 — interference from his rider, he went on over the spin- 

 ning foam on his narrow foot-bridge. 



At last he put his foot on solid ground and, with a 

 slight, throaty sound of relief, he cantered briskly off 

 toward home. 



As they neared the house he whinneyed, as was his 

 custom, and Mistress Stone threw open the door and 

 stood silhouetted against the radiance from within. The 

 glow of firelight penetrated the darkness, and from a 

 guttering candle, held high above her head, a tiny beam 

 of welcome went out to her good man. 



"Oh, Samuel," she cried, right joyfully, " 'tis a great 

 comfort to hear your voice-- again ! By what road came 

 you back?" 



"By Beaver Creek Road, wife," he made answer. 



"But, look you, the bridge is gone — how crossed you 

 the creek?" 



