“It’s too bad,” said Rudolf sympathetically; “but isn’t there anything you can do about it?”

“Nothing,” groaned the Knight-mare, “nothing at all.  At least not till I can find a way to get rid of this ugly head of mine.  If there was anybody big enough and brave enough, now, to—­” He interrupted his speech to stoop down and snatch up something from the grass.  It was Rudolf’s sword which he had dropped from his hand in his weariness after his battle with the Fidgets.  “What’s this?” the Knight-mare cried.  “Hurrah, a sword!”

“My sword,” said Rudolf, stretching out his hand for it.

“Just the thing for cutting heads off!” cried the Knight.  “Will you lend it to me, like a good fellow?  Mine is lost.”

“What for?” asked Rudolf suspiciously.

“Why, to cut my head off with, of course, or better yet, perhaps you’ll do it for me.  Come, now!  Just to oblige me?”

Rudolf took back his sword, while Ann gave a little scream and seized both the Knight’s mailed hands in hers.  “I’m sorry not to oblige you,” said Rudolf firmly, “but I can’t do anything of the sort.  I never cut anybody’s head off in my life, and the sword’s not so awful sharp, you know, and then how can you tell a new head will grow at your time of life?”

“Oh, I’d risk that,” said the Knight-mare lightly.  “I do wish you’d think it over.  If you knew what a life mine is!  All my days spent browsing round on shoots here in the wood, without a single adventure because nobody’s willing to be rescued by the likes of me!  And then the nights!  Oh”—­groaned the poor fellow—­“the nights are the worst of all!”

“What do you do then?” asked Rudolf and Ann.

“Oh, I’m ridden to death,” sighed the Knight-mare.  “As if it wasn’t bad enough to scare folks all day not meaning to, without being sent out nights to do it on purpose!” He looked over his shoulder as if he was afraid some one might be listening, and then added in a low voice, “And it’s not my fault, either, I swear it’s not. They actually make me do it!”

The children shivered, for they guessed at once that “they” meant the Bad Dreams.  Then they suddenly recollected poor little Peter, whom their last adventure and the Knight-mare’s talk had quite put out of their minds.

“I tell you what,” said Rudolf suddenly, “I’ll make a bargain with you.  My little brother has run away to find the Bad Dreams, and we have got to find him and bring him back.  If you’ll lead us to him and help us all you can, why—­why—­I won’t promise—­but I’ll see what I can do for you.”

The Knight-mare gave a loud triumphant neigh.  “Ods-bodikins and bran mash!” he cried.  “You’re worth rescuing for nothing, the whole lot of you!  But”—­he added mournfully—­“I ought to warn you to keep away from that crowd—­they’re a bad lot.  You’d do better to cut along home.”

“We can’t do that,” cried Rudolf and Ann together.