. . .Mr. Perkins's horse, noted as being an easy-going roadster. Easy? Well, I do suppose the horse was all right, but I must indulge in one groan. It was a long time since I had been on horseback. I wanted to go to the stable to get on, but the young man insisted on bringing the steed down to the hotel as soon as he had his feed, and in due time he came, a tall fellow, and I doubted my ability to get my foot up to that stirrup, and somewhat whether I could boost myself over into the saddle if I did; so I quietly and gently coaxed him up to the piazza and actually succeeded the first time trying. How many of the gentlemen, sitting in their Sunday best on the piazza, smiled, I do not know—I didn't dare to look. I know I sat up ever so stiff and tried to look just as if I had been a circuit rider for forty years or so.

I must cross the river to begin with. Now they hadn't given me any whip and I didn't dare ask the owner of the horse—"Colt, gone four"—h. . . Read More