Yet the hoof beats grew louder and there was no squeak, or jolt, or rattle to bear them company.

They came to a point in the woods directly opposite where I sat in the shade of the bushes and there they stopped.

Then they recommenced and the crackle of branches was louder than ever.

The rider, whoever he was, was coming down the bank to the pond.
A moment more and the tall swamp-huckleberry bushes at the edge of the sandy beach parted and between them stepped gingerly a clean-cut, handsome brown horse, which threw up its head at the sight of the water and then trotted lightly toward it.

The rider, who sat so easily in the saddle, was a girl.