“‘Stop!’ she called hotly, and Lewis dropped his fist like a flash. Felicia was breathing very fast and her cheeks were white, while her hands trembled almost as much as Solitaire had. Her face wore a queer look as she continued: ‘I—excuse me, Mr. Lewis, but I couldn’t bear to see you strike him. He—I don’t think he—something has frightened him. Please give him just a moment.’ Then she turned to my dear, saying, ‘Perhaps you can calm him, Major Moran?’ “I should think he could! Talk of lambs! Well, that was Solitaire when my Major went up to him. He let himself be led out of the flower-bed back to the road as quiet as a kitten. The moment Lewis tried to come near him, however, back away he would, even from my confrère. The groom tried to help; but it takes more than three humans to control a horse who doesn’t want to be controlled. “After repeated attempts they got tired of trying; and then Mr. Lewis suggested, with a laugh that didn’t sound nice: ‘Well, Major, we mustn’t cheat Miss Fairley of her afternoon; and since you seem able to manage my beast, perhaps you’ll ride him, and let me take yours?’ “Usually I should have been very much pained at my comrade’s nodding his head, but this time it was exactly what I wanted. Whoop! Ride me? Neigh, neigh! If you ever saw a coward in an ague of a blue funk, that is what I was. I blessed my stars none of the Eleventh Battery were round! Lewis tried; but, do his best, I wouldn’t let him back me. When my Major interfered, I sidled up to my dear just as if I couldn’t keep away from him; but when he attempted to hold me for Lewis to mount, I went round in a circle, always keeping him between me and the brute. It was oats to me, you’d better believe, to see the puzzled, worried look on Miss Fairley’s face as she watched the whole thing. “Well, they discussed what they called ‘the mystery,’ and finally agreed that they couldn’t ride that afternoon, so we horses were sent down to the stable, and the three went back to the verandah. Sagitta told me afterward what happened there. ‘Come here, pup,’ calls Lewis to him, the moment they were seated. “Sagitta backed away two steps, bristling up, and growling a bit. “‘Come here, you brute!’ ordered Lewis hotly, rising. “Sagitta crouched a little, drew his lips away from his fangs, and pitched his growl ‘way down in his throat. “‘Look out! That dog means mischief,’ cried my Major. “‘Are the animals possessed?’ roared Lewis, his voice as angry as Sagitta’s snarl, yet stepping backwards, for it looked as if the dog were about to spring. “But my Major didn’t retreat—not he! He sprang between the wolf-hound and Miss Fairley. ‘Down, sir!’ he ordered sharply; and Sagitta dropped his lips and his bristles, and came right up to him, wagging his tail, and trying to lick his hand. “‘Isn’t it extraordinary?’ cried Miss Fairley, with a crease in her forehead. ‘Here, Sagitta!’