TIIE A M Eli IC A N - S C A N1) IN AVI A N R E VIE W 
419 
head and snuffed the breeze, monarch of all he surveyed; then he lifted 
up his voice and split the welkin—believe me, that was a trumpet call 
that fetched the echoes out of the mountains. In the gig sat Peter Lo, 
holding the reins relaxed, a very debonair man not over thirty-five, 
broad of shoulder, vigorous, smiling out of a corner of his mouth above 
bis chin-whiskers. It was certainly too bad that his wife, sitting beside 
him, was so much older than he; her every feature drooped, her red 
cheeks drooped, her eyes drooped, the corners of her mouth drooped; 
she always spoke in whimpering tones. As for Peter Lo himself, he 
had a weakness for all things pretty, even for such as were not his own. 
As Skobelef neighed to his affinities, Peter Lo glanced at good friends 
ot bis own among the crowd and smiled. Skobelef came to a stop, but 
got a cut of the whip; he reared and got another stroke; then he bounded 
up the road toward the parsonage, the crowd in his wake, we boys 
flying ahead like birds on the wing. 
It was a circus to watch Peter Lo manoeuver Skobelef out from 
the shafts of the gig and over toward the stable door. Peter Lo for 
sure looked swell that day; the horse must have lent him a new dignity, 
his gray suit was so well brushed and he wore a stiff hat just like the 
teacher’s. But every now and then his polished boots flew up in the 
air. The crowd stared for all they were worth. Too soon the magic 
horse disappeared behind the stable door; presently Peter Lo came out 
again, brushing the horse hairs from his bands. He picked his way 
carefully so as not to soil those shiny boots as he walked down to the 
church. The crowd trekked after him. Peter Lo mounted the steps 
to the hall and walked in. The congregation followed at his heels. 
Peter Lo sat down in one of the pews, opened a hymnbook, and began 
to sing. The congregation did likewise, and the singing rose in volume. 
But on this particular day we youngsters kept watch and ward 
outside the stable door. It was a mighty good thing it was locked; 
there was no telling what Skobelef would do if he got loose on his own 
account. The cold chills ran down our spines as we heard him rattling 
his halter and stamping on the floor. Now and again the walls shook 
with his neighing. Talk about thrills! We stood still, put our heads 
together, and spoke in whispers. 
It was a great day for the horses, too. The mares under the ash 
trees lost their appetites and stood all the while arching their necks and 
trying to look like two-year-olds. Stallions and geldings had that day 
caught sight of a rival whose eyes flashed with arrogance. Do you 
suppose they would put up with that sort of thing! They pawed the 
ground furiously and shook the air with protests from all sides. 
At last the bells rang again. The congregation came out, but the 
greater number bad no thought of hitching up their own horses. The 
yard was jammed with people wanting to see Peter Lo lead Skobelef 
out of the stable. 
