doubt.  As Peggy bent over the beautiful dying mare’s head, tears streaming from her eyes, for she had cared for her and loved her since colthood, the little foal gave a low nicker and coming up behind the girl, thrust his soft muzzle over her shoulder and nestled his head against her face, trembling and quivering with a terror he could not understand.  Peggy raised one arm to clasp it around the little creature’s warm neck.  The Empress tried to nicker an answer to her baby but the effort cost her last breath and heart-throb.  It ended in a fluttering sigh and her head lay still and at rest upon Peggy’s lap.  The splendid animal, which had so often carried Peggy upon her back, the mother of Shashai, and many another splendid horse whose fame was widely known, lay lifeless.  Her little son nestled closer to the one he knew and loved best as though begging her protection.  Peggy held him close, sobbing upon his warm neck.

“You’d better get up, Miss Peggy,” said Shelby kindly.

Peggy bent and kissed the great silky head.  “Good-bye, Empress.  I’ll care for your baby,” she said.  Shelby lifted the splendid head from the girl’s lap and helped her to her feet.  The little colt still huddled close to her.

“Have you any orders, miss, about her?” asked Shelby, nodding toward the dead mare.

“She shall be buried in the circle and shall have a monument.  We owe her much.  Her foal shall be my charge.”

“And I reckon mine, too.  If we raise him now it will be a miracle.  He’s going to miss his dam’s milk.”

“I think I can manage,” answered Peggy.  “Bud, come with me.  I wish you to go down to Annapolis with a note to Doctor Feldmeyer.  He will understand what I wish to do.  Ride in on Nancy Lee.  Come, little one,” and with the little colt’s neck beneath her circling arm Peggy walked slowly back to the paddock from which barely three hours before the splendid mare, now lying lifeless in the pasture, had dashed, leaving a trail of her life’s blood behind her to guide those who came too late.  It was all the outcome of one person’s disregard of orders:  One of the hands had quit his work to gossip, leaving his great hedge shears hanging carelessly across the gate, and the gate unfastened.  The Empress, gamboling with her foal, had rushed upon them, cut herself cruelly, then maddened by the pain and terrified by the flowing blood, had dashed away as only a frightened horse can, running until she fell from exhaustion.

Peggy went back to the inclosure in which the Empress, as the most honored of the brood mares, had lived with her foal.  The little stable, a very model of order and appointment, stood at one end of it.  She opened the gate, intending to leave the colt in the inclosure, but he huddled closer and closer to her side.