“Yes you can,” interposed Lewis, “when I have cleared the road for you, and shown you how to do it. Sit still and watch me.” So saying, he selected a place where the hedge was thin and the ditch and bank practicable, and putting his horse into an easy canter, rode at it. Being particularly anxious that nothing should go wrong, and that Walter should be convinced of the feasibility of the attempt, Lewis was not best pleased when his horse, instead of rising to the leap, refused it, and replied to a tolerably sharp application of the spur by plunging violently and turning short round. His rider, however, sat as firmly as if he were part of the animal, and cantering round two sides of the field, got him well in hand and again rode him at the hedge, working his mouth with the bit and giving him the spur. This discipline produced the desired effect; for instead of refusing the leap this time, the horse sprang forward with a bound which would have cleared an obstacle of twice the size, and alighted on the other side several feet beyond the ditch. Lewis rode on a few yards, and then turning, leaped back into the field and rejoined his pupil. “Now, Walter, you must do as I have done. Canter up to that gap, give the pony his head, touch him on the flank as he approaches the hedge, sit firmly and press in your knees, and you’ll go over as nicely as possible.” But poor Walter’s courage failed him; the conflict between Lewis and his horse had destroyed his confidence, and he was afraid to make the attempt. His tutor read it in his blanched cheek and quailing glance, and being as kind and judicious as he was firm, forbore to press the point, and dismounting, led the pony through the gap, and assisted Walter to scramble over on foot; then remounting his steed, he tested his obedience by once more leaping him over; and having thus achieved the adventure of the locked gate, tutor and pupil cantered off across the common. But this little episode had caused some loss of time, and when Lewis reached the lane leading to the village, near which Colonel Norton’s house was situated, he learned from a man who was mending the road that a phaeton, answering the description of General Grant’s equipage, had passed a few minutes before. “My friend Richards’ fears were needlessly excited then, it seems, and the old gentleman is a better whip than he gave him credit for being,” thought Lewis. “Come, Walter,” he added aloud, “we will go back by the road. Don’t trot just yet; the horses are warm, we must allow them to get a little cool.”