Satan came out playing. Rearing, he stood on two legs like a great boy, showing off before another. Then he came up, rubbing his nose on my shoulder and reaching for the apple Eloise had for him. Meanwhile Aunt Lucretia sat smiling doubtfully. I saddled him, and when Eloise sprang up they looked superbly splendid, the horse proud of his rider. "Well, we’ll go," said Aunt Lucretia, starting off. We turned to go to the left. Satan made two quick leaps, playfully, as if to follow, and then, taking the bit he wheeled to the right despite Eloise’s protest. He saw Jim holding the gate open for us. He wheeled and refused to go through it; he laid back his ears and quivered with rage at the sight of the negro. Aunt Lucretia stopped. I pulled up sharply. Eloise sat white with anger on her uncontrollable mount. "Oh, don’t be angry with him," said Aunt Lucretia. "You will have to go as he says." Eloise touched him with her whip and he reared, leaping high into the air. I caught my breath when she came down firmly with him. He stood backing his ears at Jim. Again she urged him, again he refused. She brought her whip down sharply. "Don’t, Eloise," I cried, "he’s dangerous." Again he leaped high in the air, tossing his head. Eloise slid down, white with anger. "Jack, put your saddle on him," she said quietly. "I think we’d better," I said. "I’ll ride him for you for a while. It’s Jim. He’ll never forget him." "You have a sharp knife?" asked Eloise, after I had put my saddle on the horse. She took the reins in her hands. "No, no, I’ll hold him. Don’t put my saddle on your mare. Wait." "What do you mean?" I asked. "Eloise," said Aunt Lucretia, "you shan’t get up on that horse again." But Eloise did not notice her; her lips were set; her face white. I knew the meaning of old. "Jack," she said quietly, "grasp my skirt at the hem, petticoat and all, and cut it clean down from above my knees. Don’t listen to Aunt Lucretia. Please, Jack, it is life and death with the horse and me. I’d rather die than have him conquer me." I knew from her voice that she meant it. Grasping her skirts at the hem in an instant I had ripped them through. "Now behind," she said; "it’s my old riding skirt, Jack." In an instant it, too, was split. She smiled, a flash of her old humor behind her sternness. "Now, turn, Jack." When I turned back again she had slipped both her garters over her divided skirts, so that they were held firmly to her ankles. The next instant she was in my saddle, astride. "You, dear, sweet, old, stubborn Satan," she said softly, "I am sorry I must punish you. Shut the gate, Jim; I am going to make him do his best stunt to pay for this."