It is no common errand upon which you ride." The colonel walked with him to the gate where the horse stood.

Harry did not know who had brought the animal there, but he believed that his father had done so with his own hand.

The boy sprang into the saddle, Colonel Kenton gave him a strong grasp of the hand, undertook to say something but, as he did so, the words choked in his throat, and he walked hastily toward the house.
Harry spoke to his horse, but a hundred yards away, before he came to the first curve in the road, he stopped and looked back.

Colonel Kenton was standing in the doorway, his figure made bright in the moonlight.
Harry waved his hand and a hand was waved in return.

Tears arose to his own eyes, but he was youth in the saddle, with the world before him, and the mist was gone quickly.
The snow was six or eight inches deep, and lay unbroken in the road.
But the horse was powerful, shod carefully for snow and ice, and Harry had been almost from infancy an expert rider.