He could find his way home from any part of the forest. So the
dean rode along now in the gray night, through the bewildering woods,
with the reins dangling and his thoughts far away. It was a long time
before he noticed how far along he was on his homeward way. When he
did glance up, he saw that the forest was as dense as it had been at
the beginning.
He intended to turn the horse at once, but the animal had never
strayed. Perhaps he, himself, was mistaken, the dean thought. But
suddenly a big branch struck him and almost swept him from the horse.
They were riding over a soft marsh through which there was no beaten
track, although the horse trotted along at a brisk pace and showed no
uncertainty. The dean seized the reins and turned the horse about,
guiding him back to the roadway. No sooner was he there than he turned
again and made straight for the woods.
The dean decided to walk and lead the horse until they came to more
familiar roads. He dismounted, wound the reins around his arm, and
started along on foot. It was no easy matter to tramp through the
forest in a heavy fur coat; and the horse refused to follow. He
planted his hoofs firmly on the ground and balked.
At last the dean was angry. He had never beaten his horse, nor would
he now.
Pages:
223
224
225
226
227
228
229
230
231
232
233
234
235
236
237
238
239
240
241
242
243
244
245
246
247