Four men, very sweaty, carrying spades entered.

“It’s done,” said the first, nodding, “and it’s a big grave.  Glad pet horses don’t die oftener.”

“This ain’t a pet,” snapped Willet.  “He’s just that much property and being of no more use is thrown away—­just like an old tin can.  No more sense in burying one than the other.  If I had my way about it I’d——­” But Geth entered.  With his coat off he gave an impression of greater size, like Cuddy his lines were graceful enough to minimize his weight.

“Hole dug?  Well, let’s saddle up and start out.”  He did not go up to Cuddy to speak to him as he usually would have done, but as if trying to avoid him, he fell to patting Happiness’s striped face.  She was fretful in her new quarters.  “Perhaps,” thought Willet, “she knows it’s old Cuddy and he’s gone out for good.”  All the horses seemed nervous and unhappy.  It was as if they knew that one of their number was to be taken out to an inglorious death—­not the fortune to die on the turf track as a steeple-chaser might wish, but ignominiously, on a hill top, after a soft canter through spring meadows.

Cuddy stood saddled and bridled and then Willet turned in last appeal to his master’s son.

“Mr. Geth, I wouldn’t ride him—­not even if I rode as well as you, which I don’t.  That horse has grown worse and worse these last months.  He wants to kill some one, that’s what he wants.”  Geth shook his head.

“No use, Willet, trying to scare me.  I know what I’m doing, eh Cuddy?” He went to the horse and rubbed the base of his ears.  The satin head dropped forward on to the man’s chest, a rare response from Cuddy.  Gething led him out of the stable, Willet held his head as the man mounted.

As he thrust his foot in the stirrup Cuddy lunged at Willet, his savage yellow teeth crushed into his shoulder.  The rider pulled him off striking him with his heavy hunting whip.  The horse squealed, arched himself in the air and sidled down the driveway.  He did not try to run or buck, but seemed intent on twisting himself into curves and figures.  The two went past the big house with its gables and numberless chimneys and down to the end of the driveway.

There is a four foot masonry wall around the Gething country-place ("farm” they call it).  The horse saw it and began jerking at his bit and dancing, for ever since colt-hood walls had had but one meaning for him.

“Well, at it old man,” laughed Gething.  At a signal Cuddy flew at it, rose into the air with magnificent strength and landed like thistle-down.

“Cuddy,” cried the man, “there never was a jumper like you.  Break-Neck will keep, we’ll find some more walls first.”  He crossed the road and entered a rough pasture.  It was a day of such abounding life one could pity the worm the robin pulled.  For on such a day everything seemed to have the right to live and be happy.  The crows sauntered across the sky, care