The pony and I had come to an understanding. I was a
rider from that time, without fear or uncertainty. The first
gentle pull on the bridle was obeyed and I came to a stop in
front of Darry and my cousin Preston.
I have spent a great deal of time to tell of my ride. Yet not
more than its place in my life then deserved. It was my last
half-hour of pleasure for I think many a day. I had cantered
up the slope, all fresh in mind and body, excited and glad
with my achievement and with the pleasure of brisk motion; I
had forgotten everybody and everything disagreeable, or what I
did not forget I disregarded; but just before I stopped I saw
what sent another thrill than that of pleasure tingling
through all my veins. I saw Preston, who had but a moment
before reached the stables, I saw him lift his hand with a
light riding switch he carried, and draw the switch across
Darry's mouth. I shall never forget the coloured man's face,
as he stepped back a pace or two. I understood it afterwards;
I _felt_ it then.
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