"Fix him up and run him out," commanded Mr. Hannaford, jerking a thumb at the little black 'orse; "and keep your scalp steady, me lad, else you'll do yourself a ninjury." He glared very fiercely; and Jim, touching an eyebrow which a violent twitch had rushed up to the point that should have been covered by the brimless straw hat, took down a bridle and approached the little black 'orse with the air of one who anticipates some embarrassment. Mr. Hannaford's stables looked on to a small enclosed paddock, much cut about with hoofs and marked in the centre by a deeply trodden ring, around which, as he explained, the little 'orses were put through their circus paces. Rollo shyly held his father's hand; Stingo revolved slowly on his own axis the better to keep a surprised eye on Percival, who pranced and bounded with excitement; and presently the little black 'orse, with tossing head and delighted heels, was produced before them. "Now!" said Mr. Hannaford, patting the little black 'orse with one hand and extending the other to Rollo. "Up you come, my little lordship. Nothing to be afraid of. Only his fun that. Steady as a little lamb when you're on his back--perfectly safe, me lord," he assured Lord Burdon. But Rollo hung back, nestling his hand deeper into his father's and flushing with nervous appeal into Lord Burdon's face. His riding in the Park did not accommodate the natural timidity of his nature to the adventures of a strange mount, and less so to the doubtful prospects that the spirit of the little black 'orse appeared to offer. Lord Burdon understood, and patted Rollo's hand. "Not feeling quite up to it, old man? Well, we'll ask Mr. Hannaford to send the pony over to the Manor, and try him there, eh?" "Blest if you ain't right, me young lordship," declared Mr. Hannaford tactfully. "Never be hurried into trying a new little 'orse. That's the way. Jim shall bring him round for you, me lord, first thing in the morning. Walk him up the field, Jim, to let his lordship see how he moves." Jim clicked his tongue, the little black 'orse bounded amain, and Percival, who had been watching with burning eyes, could control himself no longer. "Oh, let me!" Percival cried. "Just one tiny little ride! Lord Burdon, _please_ let me! I _'treat_ you to let me!" "Why, you can't ride," Lord Burdon objected playfully. "I could ride him _anywhere_!" Percival implored. "He knows me. Just look how he's looking at me. Oh, please--_please_!" and he ended with a shout of delight, for Lord Burdon nodded to Mr. Hannaford and Mr. Hannaford swung Percival from the ground into the saddle. "Shorten up that stirrup-iron, Jim," said Mr. Hannaford, stuffing Percival's foot into the stirrup on his side. "Catch hold this way, little master. Stick in with your knees. That's the way. Run him out, Jim."