“Yes, when I unchain the dog,” Reinette replied. “He’ll not run from me; I can tame him. What’s his name?” “King,” said Stevens; and taking the dog’s face between her hands, and looking straight, into his eyes, Reinette said: “Mr. Doggie, you are my king, and I am your queen. You must not run away from me. I’ll take such good care of you, and love you so much; and in proof thereof I give you your liberty.” She slipped the chain from his neck, and, with a joyful bark, King sprang upon her, licking her face and hands in token of his grateful allegiance. Every brute recognized a friend in Reinette, and King was not an exception, and kept close to her side as she went toward the stables to see the horses, which Stevens led out for her inspection. First, the splendid bays, Jupiter and Juno, with which she could find no fault, unless it were that Juno carried her head a trifle higher than Jupiter, and might be freer in the harness. She could not quite decide until she saw them on the road, she said; and then she turned to the milk-white steed, her saddle pony, with which she was perfectly delighted; she was so white and clean, and tall and gentle, and ate grass from her hand, and followed her about as readily as King himself. “What’s her name?” she asked. And on Stevens replying that he did not know, she said: “Then she shall be Margery, after the dearest friend I ever had except papa. She was so fair, and beautiful, and tall, and I loved her so much. Oh, Margery!” she continued, laying her hand upon the neck of her steed; “where are you now, and do you know how sad and lonely your little Queenie is?” There was a shadow on Reinette’s bright face, but it quickly passed away; and sending the horses back to their stalls, she went, with Pierre and King, toward the ledge of rocks on the grassy hill-side. CHAPTER XI. ON THE ROCKS.