The money was paid on the spot, and my new master took my halter, and led me out of the fair to an inn, where he had a saddle and bridle ready.  He gave me a good feed of oats, and stood by while I ate it, talking to himself and talking to me.  Half an hour after, we were on our way to London, through pleasant lanes and country roads, until we came into the great thoroughfare, on which we traveled steadily, till in the twilight we reached the great city.  The gas lamps were already lighted; there were streets and streets crossing each other, for mile upon mile.  I thought we should never come to the end of them.  At last, in passing through one, we came to a long cab stand, when my rider called out in a cheery voice, “Good-night, Governor!”

“Hallo!” cried a voice.  “Have you got a good one?”

“I think so,” replied my owner.

“I wish you luck with him.”

“Thank ye, Governor,” and he rode on.  We soon turned up one of the side-streets, and about half-way up that we turned into a very narrow street, with rather poor-looking houses on one side, and what seemed to be coach-houses and stables on the other.

My owner pulled up at one of the houses and whistled.  The door flew open, and a young woman, followed by a little girl and boy, ran out.  There was a very lively greeting as my rider dismounted.  “Now, then, Harry, my boy, open the gates, and mother will bring us the lantern.”

The next minute they were all round me in the stable yard.  “Is he gentle, father?” “Yes, Dolly, as gentle as your own kitten; come and pat him.”  At once the little hand was patting about all over my shoulder without fear.  How good it felt!

“Let me get him a bran mash while you rub him down,” said the mother.  “Do, Polly, it’s just what he wants; and I know you’ve got a beautiful mash ready for me.”

I was led into a comfortable, clean-smelling stall with plenty of dry straw, and after a capital supper, I lay down, thinking I was going to be happy.

CHAPTER XII

A LONDON CAB HORSE

My new master’s name was Jeremiah Barker, but as every one called him Jerry, I shall do the same.  Polly, his wife, was just as good a match as a man could have.  She was a plump, trim, tidy little woman, with smooth, dark hair, dark eyes, and a merry little mouth.  The boy was nearly twelve years old, a tall, frank, good-tempered lad; and little Dorothy (Dolly they called her) was her mother over again, at eight years old.  They were all wonderfully fond of each other; I never knew such a happy, merry family before or since.  Jerry had a cab of his own, and two horses, which he drove and attended to himself.  His other horse was a tall, white, rather large-boned animal, called Captain.  He was old now, but when he was young he must have been splendid; he had still a proud way of holding his head and arching his neck; in fact, he was a high-bred, fine-mannered, noble old horse, every inch of him.  He told me that in his early youth he went to the Crimean War; he belonged to an officer in the cavalry, and used to lead the regiment.