First came four sturdy negro outriders, in a gorgeous livery of green and gold, and mounted upon stout bay horses, well adapted for hard travel. Then came a magnificent travelling coach, crest-emblazoned, which would not have discredited the King's levee. It was drawn by four superb roans, exactly matched in form, color, and action. They took the road as if they had just warmed up to their work; but from the dust on the whole cavalcade it was plain they had travelled far that day. With heads well in the air, the horses threw their legs together with a style and at a gait that showed them to be of the best-blood in the horse kingdom. A black postilion in green and gold rode the off horse of the leaders, while a black coachman handled the reins. On the box, next the coachman, sat a white man, evidently a servant out of livery. One glance told that he was an old soldier. He had at his side one of the huge holsters of the day, in which he carried a pair of long horse-pistols; and a stout wooden box, upon which he rested his feet, showed that the party had means of defence had it been attacked. George was so stunned with admiration at the splendor of the equipage that he scarcely glanced at the interior of the coach until the sunlight flashed upon something that fairly dazzled him. It was a diamond-hilted dress-sword, worn by a gentleman of about fifty, who sat alone upon the back seat. The gorgeous sword-hilt was the only thing about him that shone or glinted, for his brown travelling suit was as studiously simple as his equipage was splendid. He wore plain silver buckles at his knees and upon his handsome high-arched feet, and his hair, streaked with gray, was without powder, and tied into a club with a black ribbon. One glance at his face fixed George's attention. It was pale and somewhat angular, unlike the type of florid, high-colored Virginia squires with which George was familiar. He had been handsome in his youth, and was still handsome, with a stately, grave beauty; but even a boy could see that this man had had but little joy in life. From the moment that George's eyes fell upon this gentleman he looked upon nothing else. Neither the great coach nor the superb horses had any power to attract his gaze, although never in all his short life had he seen anything so splendid. His mother had a coach, and so had most of the people roundabout, but all had a common air of having once been handsome, and of having reached the comfortable, shabby-genteel stage. And many persons drove four horses to these great lumbering vehicles, but all four would not be worth one of the gallant roans that trotted along the road so gayly.