"Go it, old fellow!" he shouted, then listened again. It was a calm night, and he could just hear old Whitey's feet,--tramp,--tramp,--tramp. The next morning the good people of Fairview, ten miles from New Hope, laughed to see an old white horse, with a bundle of hay a few inches beyond his nose, passing through the place. "Have you seen my horse?" Mr. Smith asked Paul in the morning. "Yes, sir, I saw him going down towards the bridge last evening," Paul replied, chuckling to himself. Mr. Smith went down to the mill and inquired. The miller heard a horse go over the bridge. The farmer on the other side heard a horse go up the hill. Mr. Smith looked at the tracks. They were old Whitey's, for he had a broken shoe on his left hind foot. He followed on. "I never knew him to go away before," he said to himself, as he walked hour after hour, seeing the tracks all the way to Fairview. "Have you seen a white horse about here?" he asked of one of the villagers. "Yes, sir; there was one here this morning trying to overtake a bundle of hay," the man replied, laughing. "There he is now!" he added. Mr. Smith looked up and saw old Whitey, who had turned about, and was reaching forward to get a nibble of the hay. Mr. Smith felt like being angry, but the old horse was walking so soberly and earnestly that he couldn't help laughing. "That is some of Paul's doings, I know. I'll give him a blessing when I get back." It was noon before Mr. Smith reached New Hope. Paul and Bruno were sitting beneath the maple. "Where did you find old Whitey?" Paul asked. "You was the one who did it, you little rascal?" "Did what?" "You know what. You have made me walk clear to Fairview. I have a mind to horsewhip you." Paul laughed to think that the old horse had tramped so far, though he was sorry that Mr. Smith had been obliged to walk that distance. "I didn't mean any harm, Mr. Smith, but old Whitey has made our door-yard his stamping-place all summer, and I thought I would see if I could get rid of him." "Well, sir, if you do it again I'll trounce you," said Mr. Smith as he rode away, his anger coming up. "Wouldn't it be better for you to put him in a pasture, Mr. Smith? Then he wouldn't trouble us," said Paul, who knew that Mr. Smith had no right to let old Whitey run at large. Paul was not easily frightened when he had right on his side. The people in the stores and at the tavern had a hearty laugh when they heard how old Whitey went to Fairview. Mr. Cipher taught the village school. He was tall, slim, thin-faced, with black eyes deeply set in his head, and a long, hooked nose like an eagle's bill. He wore a loose swallow-tailed coat with bright brass buttons, and pants which were several inches too short. The Committee employed him, not because he was a superior teacher, but they could get him for twelve dollars a month, while Mr. Rudiment, who had been through college, and who was known to be an excellent instructor, asked sixteen.