At this, though the statement was quite true, they looked perplexed.

“Is there any message?” asked the young woman, after another pause.

“Oh, no,” I answered lightly.  “I was riding by and thought I’d take the liberty of coming up and telling you—­telling you that although I am a Northerner and a stranger here, I love the South, the quaint old Southern customs, the lovely old houses, the delicious waffles, the—­”

“That is very gratifying,” said she “I am sorry to say we are all out of waffles at present.”

“Oh, I don’t want any now,” I replied politely.

“Well, if you don’t mind my asking, what do you want?”

“I want,” I said, desperately, “to see your groom for a moment, if possible.”

“He’s gone to town,” she replied.  “Is there anything I can do?  I see that your stirrup leather is twisted.”  With that she arose, came down, removed my foot from the stirrup, in a businesslike manner, reversed the iron, and put my foot back for me.

I thanked her.

“Anything else?” she asked, her wicked eye twinkling.

“Perhaps,” I ventured, “perhaps you know how to make a horse single-foot?”

“There are different ways,” she said.  “With Dr. Bell you might try using the curb gently, working it from side to side.”

“I will,” I said.  “Thank you very much.”

“And,” said the girl, “if he ever takes a notion to bolt with you, or to go up to some house where you don’t want him to go, just touch him with the curb.  That will fix him.  He’s very soft-bitted.”

“But I tried that,” I protested.

She looked at my reins, then shook her head.

“No,” she said, “you’ve got your curb rein and your snaffle rein mixed.”

“I am very much indebted to you,” I said, as I changed the position of the reins between my fingers.

“Not at all,” said she.  “I hope you’ll get safely back to the Claymont.  If you want to jump him, give him his head.  He’ll take off all right.”

“Thanks,” I returned.  “I don’t want to jump him.”

Then lifting my hat and thanking her again, I wiggled the curb gently from side to side, as directed, and departed, singlefooting comfortably.

Dr. Bell and I got home very nicely.  He wanted to jump the gate again, but I checked him with the curb.  After pulling the rope to open the gate I must have got the reins mixed once more, for as I was nearing the house, calm in the feeling that I had mastered the animal, and intent upon cantering up to the porch in fine style, Dr. Bell swerved suddenly off to the stable, went into the door, and, before I could stop him, entered his stall.

There I dismounted in absolute privacy.  It was quite easy.  I had only to climb on to the partition and drop down into the next stall, which, by good fortune, was vacant.

With a single exception, this was the only riding I did in the South, and on the one other occasion of which I speak I did not ride alone, but had, surrounding me, the entire Eleventh United States Cavalry.