But now Mr. Faggus kept only one horse, lest the Government should steal them; and that one was the young mare Winnie.  How he came by her he never would tell, but I think that she was presented to him by a certain Colonel, a lover of sport, and very clever in horseflesh, whose life Tom had saved from some gamblers.  When I have added that Faggus as yet had never been guilty of bloodshed (for his eyes, and the click of his pistol at first, and now his high reputation made all his wishes respected), and that he never robbed a poor man, neither insulted a woman, but was very good to the Church, and of hot patriotic opinions, and full of jest and jollity, I have said as much as is fair for him, and shown why he was so popular.  Everybody cursed the Doones, who lived apart disdainfully.  But all good people liked Mr. Faggus—­when he had not robbed them—­and many a poor sick man or woman blessed him for other people’s money; and all the hostlers, stable-boys, and tapsters entirely worshipped him.

I have been rather long, and perhaps tedious, in my account of him, lest at any time hereafter his character should be misunderstood, and his good name disparaged; whereas he was my second cousin, and the lover of my—­But let that bide.  ’Tis a melancholy story.

He came again about three months afterwards, in the beginning of the spring-time, and brought me a beautiful new carbine, having learned my love of such things, and my great desire to shoot straight.  But mother would not let me have the gun, until he averred upon his honour that he had bought it honestly.  And so he had, no doubt, so far as it is honest to buy with money acquired rampantly.  Scarce could I stop to make my bullets in the mould which came along with it, but must be off to the Quarry Hill, and new target I had made there.  And he taught me then how to ride bright Winnie, who was grown since I had seen her, but remembered me most kindly.  After making much of Annie, who had a wondrous liking for him—­and he said he was her godfather, but God knows how he could have been, unless they confirmed him precociously—­away he went, and young Winnie’s sides shone like a cherry by candlelight.

Now I feel that of those boyish days I have little more to tell, because everything went quietly, as the world for the most part does with us.  I began to work at the farm in earnest, and tried to help my mother, and when I remembered Lorna Doone, it seemed no more than the thought of a dream, which I could hardly call to mind.  Now who cares to know how many bushels of wheat we grew to the acre, or how the cattle milched till we ate them, or what the turn of the seasons was?  But my stupid self seemed like to be the biggest of all the cattle; for having much to look after the sheep, and being always in kind appetite, I grew four inches longer in every year of my farming, and a matter of two inches wider; until there was no man of my size to be seen elsewhere upon Exmoor.  Let that pass:  what odds to