Yielding to John’s persuasions he had condescended to mount Red Rover, and after a good gallop on the heath was returning by the road that led to the sea. He was about to pass in at the lodge gates which guarded Farncourt, when he caught sight of Robin coming towards him on an ancient grey pony, whose sedate bearing and somewhat stiff movements proclaimed a long life of uneventful toil. "That’s a fine old cow you’ve got," he said rudely, when the pair reached the entrance of the park. Robin flushed. Pride had filled his heart when he said good-bye to his mother at the garden door, and he and the blacksmith’s pony had gone out alone into the great unknown. No boy was he, enjoying a rare and unwonted ride--rather was he a knight in armour on his trusty warhorse, pacing forth undauntedly to do battle with tyrants and dragons in the cause of Right. And now--to hear his charger called a cow! It was galling, to say the least of it, and his spirit rose to the occasion. "Insult me not, caitiff!" he exclaimed, "or thou shalt rue the day. Stand and deliver!" With a whoop, more like that of an Indian at Buffalo Bill’s Wild West Show than of an errant knight of King Arthur’s Table, the boy suddenly applied his whip to the old pony’s flanks, making him lurch heavily forward to the charge. Surprised by the unexpected attack, it required all Julius’ horsemanship to calm Red Rover, and stay the plunging of the fiery little cob. Quieted at length, he managed to bring him to a standstill within the gates, and from that safe vantage ground he turned to face the enemy. "You’d better not come in here with your clumsy beast," he called out. "If you do, you’ll be prosecuted. Look, it’s written up on that board." "I desire not to set foot within thy territory," replied Robin grandly. "I go forth to the great battle where the king awaits me, relying upon my trusty sword." Taken aback by this strange form of address, Julius watched silently as the youthful combatant laboriously turned his steed and passed with sober tread along the road. One more shot came Parthian-wise as they went their way, revealing the boy beneath the knight. "It’s all very well to call my pony a cow, but it can shake hands and open a gate, and I expect that’s more than yours can do." As Julius rode up the avenue one purpose only filled his mind. How could he get to know this lad, and find out more about the delightful game which he seemed to be enjoying all by himself. "If only we could play at being knights together, what glorious tournaments we could have in the meadow," he thought. "He looked so jolly and brave when he came banging into Red Rover like that, just as if he was a real warrior. I wonder how he taught his pony to shake hands. I wish Prince could learn to do it too. Why does father hate to have anybody here? I don’t think it’s fair. Anyhow, I’m going to try and see the boy again, whatever any one may say."