"
Kneeling in the road, Abel lifted the horse's foot, and felt for the
injury with a practised hand.
"Needs a bandage," he said at last curtly. "I happen to have a bottle of
liniment in the gig."
The light glided like a winged insect over the strip of corduroy road,
and a minute later the pungent odour of the liniment floated to Gay's
nostrils.
"Give me anything you have for a compress," remarked the miller,
dropping again on his knees. "Pick a few of those Jimson weeds by the
fence and lend me your handkerchief--or a couple of them would be still
better. There, now, that's the best I can do," he added after a moment.
"Lead him slowly and be sure to look where you're going."
"I will, thank you--but can you find your way without the lantern?"
"Hannah can travel the road in the dark and so can I for that matter.
You needn't thank me, by the way. I wouldn't have troubled about you,
but I've a liking for horses."
"A jolly good thing it was for me that you came up at the instant. I
say, Revercomb, I'm sorry it was your brother I got into a row with this
morning."
"Oh, that's another score. We haven't settled it yet," retorted the
Miller, as he stepped into his gig.
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