Nic was silent, and the horse stumbled through putting a foot into a deep rut of the unkept road.

"Hold up, sir--steady, steady!" cried the doctor, drawing more heavily upon the rein he still held, as well as his own; and then, after Nic had shuffled back into the seat from which he had again been shaken, "I said, are you too much alarmed to stop on?"

These words sounded very stern, and stung and hurt the boy to the quick.

"I have never learned to ride, father," he said reproachfully; "and it is all fresh to me to be mounted upon a spirited horse like this."

"Of course it is: perfectly fresh. Then you feel afraid?"

"Yes, of falling off, father. I have nearly been down three times."

"Six, Nic. Well, get off and climb on to the waggon." Nic drew a deep breath as his father checked the horses; and, stung more than ever, the boy kicked his nag with his heels and sent it forward.

"Well, why don't you get down, sir?"

"Because I'd rather keep on and ride, father," said Nic huskily.

"Do you mean that, sir?"

"Yes, father."

"Thank you, Nic," said the doctor, turning to him with a smile. "I like the boy who is not afraid to own that he is alarmed; and better still to hear you say through your teeth that you will not be beaten-- metaphorically, of course. Now, then, we understand our position. This is not boasting, mind--look at me. You see me here?"

"Yes, father," said Nic, feeling envious of the easy, upright position of his father in the saddle.

"Let me tell you, then, that I feel as easy and comfortable here as if I were seated upon a cushion in a carriage. More so, for this n.o.ble beast knows me as I know him, and after a fashion we are as one together in going over the ground. Do you understand what that means, Nic?"

"Yes, father; but you have learned to ride."

"Yes, and more, boy. It means the confidence which comes of knowledge.

When I came out here, years ago, I had not been on horseback for twenty years; I was a miserable invalid, and when I mounted my horse--a necessity out in a wild country like this--I suffered a martyrdom of nervous dread. But I did what you have just done, made up my mind that I would master my fear and ride, and I won. It took me a whole year.

As for you, it will not take you a month."

"So little time?" cried Nic excitedly.

"Or less. We have about a week's journey before us; and from what I have just learned, I shall be greatly surprised if you do not canter up to the station with me, a little stiff and sore about the knees, but good friends with Sour Sorrel there, and ready to think riding a delightful accomplishment."

Nic shook his head.

"You don't know me yet, father," said the boy sadly.

"Better than you know yourself," replied the doctor. "But don't let's waste time. You want to learn?"

"Horribly, father," cried Nic.

"Very well, then. I'll give you a lesson at once."

"Not faster, to begin with?" said Nic quickly.

"No," said the doctor, laughing. "I want to give you confidence, not destroy it. So now then, to begin with, you shall learn what danger you run. I am an experienced horseman, I have tight hold of your rein, so that your horse cannot bolt, and I have promised you not to go faster than a walk. You see, then, the utmost that could happen in that way would be that the nag might caper a little."

"Or kick and throw me off."

"He will not kick, boy. He is too well broken. Secondly, you might lose your seat and come off: If you did, how far would you have to fall?"

"About four feet, father."

"Say four. Suppose you were on a see-saw at school, would you be afraid of falling, off four or five or six feet?"

"No, father, of course not."

"Then why should you be afraid of falling that distance from the horse?"

"I don't know," said Nic. "It is because it is all so fresh, I suppose.

Yes, I do: my foot might hang in the stirrup and the horse gallop away with me, kicking me every time he strode."

"When I am holding him? The stirrups, then: take your feet out."

"Out of the stirrups, father? Is it safe to do so?"

"You were alarmed lest your foot should hang in one. Quick! out with them. That's right: now draw them up, cross the leathers, and let the irons hang over on each side. Now how do you feel?"

"As if I must go off on one side or the other, father. The saddle is so dreadfully slippery."

"Take tight hold of it, then, with your knees, and keep your balance.

That's not right: I said take hold with your knees, not the calves of your legs."

"That way, father?"

"Yes, that's better. Let your legs go well down, your heels too, and whatever you do don't touch the pommel with your hand."

That last order was hard, for it was very easy to make a catch at the pommel so as to hold on.

"Sit up, boy. Don't bend forward. It hurts you a little at first, but you get more and more used to it every hour. Now, then, we'll walk gently past the waggon. Don't let the men think you have never been on a horse before."

The horses' pace being so much faster than that of the bullocks, they were soon by, after the doctor had spoken in a friendly way to the dogs, given his men an order or two, and then cast a critical eye over the sleek, patient oxen, which trudged along with swinging tails and horns giving a smart rap now and then as they encountered their yoke-fellows.

The track was plainly marked, but it had no pretence of being a road as it went on and on, to be lost in the distance of the bright grey morning. Away to their left was the harbour, with its shipping, and beyond it the ocean; the town lay behind them, and on either side of the track with its lines of ruts there were plenty of green pasture and trees scattered here and there--monsters some seemed to be--and in the openings were great patches of short, scrubby growth.

All at once, as Nic was thinking how peculiar the trees looked in colour, there came a loud musical series of notes from a grove-like patch, in which the boy immediately concluded there must be a house.

"Hear that?" said the doctor.

"Yes, father, plainly."

"Well, what do you make of it?"

"Some one playing a kind of flute."