As the half-wild colt swept up to the paddock from which the valuable brood mare Empress had made her escape, Peggy was met by one of the stable hands.

"Where is she?" she asked, her dark eyes full of concern and anxiety.

"Up yonder in de paster," answered the negro, pointing to a green upland. A touch with her heel started Shashai. A moment later she slipped from her mount to hurry to a little group gathered around a dark object lying upon the ground. With the pitiful little cry:

"Oh, Empress! My beauty," Peggy was upon her knees beside the splendid animal.

"Shelby, Shelby, how did it happen? Oh, how did it?" she cried as she lifted the horse's head to her lap. The panting creature looked at her with great appealing, terror-stricken eyes, as though imploring her to save the life-spark now flickering so fitfully.

"God knows, miss," answered the foreman of the paddock. "We did not find her until a half hour ago. If I'd a-found her sooner it would never a- come to this. We ain't never had no such accident on the estate since I been on it, and I'd give all I'm worth if we could a-just have missed THIS one. Some fool, I can't find out who, left them hedge shears a-hanging wide open across the gate and the gate unlatched, and she must a run foul of 'em, 'cause we found 'em and all the signs o' what had happened, but we couldn't find HER for more 'n hour, and then THIS is what we found. I sent Bud for you and Jim for the Vet, but we've all come too late." The man spoke low and hurriedly, and never for a moment ceased his care for the mare. The veterinary who had arrived but a few moments before Peggy stood by helpless to do more than had already been done by Shelby, the veteran horse-trainer who had been on the estate for years, and who loved the animals as though they were his children. It was evident that the Empress' moments were numbered. She had severed one of the great veins in her flank and had nearly bled to death before discovered. Her little foal stood near, surprised at his dam's indifference to his needs, his little baby face and great round eyes, so like his mother's, filled with questioning doubt. As Peggy bent over the beautiful dying mare's head, tears streaming from her eyes, for she had cared for her and loved her since colthood, the little foal gave a low nicker and coming up behind the girl, thrust his soft muzzle over her shoulder and nestled his head against her face, trembling and quivering with a terror he could not understand. Peggy raised one arm to clasp it around the little creature's warm neck. The Empress tried to nicker an answer to her baby but the effort cost her last breath and heart-throb. It ended in a fluttering sigh and her head lay still and at rest upon Peggy's lap. The splendid animal, which had so often carried Peggy upon her back, the mother of Shashai, and many another splendid horse whose fame was widely known, lay lifeless. Her little son nestled closer to the one he knew and loved best as though begging her protection. Peggy held him close, sobbing upon his warm neck.

"You'd better get up, Miss Peggy," said Shelby kindly.

Peggy bent and kissed the great silky head. "Good-bye, Empress. I'll care for your baby," she said. Shelby lifted the splendid head from the girl's lap and helped her to her feet. The little colt still huddled close to her.

"Have you any orders, miss, about her?" asked Shelby, nodding toward the dead mare.

"She shall be buried in the circle and shall have a monument. We owe her much. Her foal shall be my charge."

"And I reckon mine, too. If we raise him now it will be a miracle. He's going to miss his dam's milk."

"I think I can manage," answered Peggy. "Bud, come with me. I wish you to go down to Annapolis with a note to Doctor Feldmeyer. He will understand what I wish to do. Ride in on Nancy Lee. Come, little one," and with the little colt's neck beneath her circling arm Peggy walked slowly back to the paddock from which barely three hours before the splendid mare, now lying lifeless in the pasture, had dashed, leaving a trail of her life's blood behind her to guide those who came too late. It was all the outcome of one person's disregard of orders: One of the hands had quit his work to gossip, leaving his great hedge shears hanging carelessly across the gate, and the gate unfastened. The Empress, gamboling with her foal, had rushed upon them, cut herself cruelly, then maddened by the pain and terrified by the flowing blood, had dashed away as only a frightened horse can, running until she fell from exhaustion.

Peggy went back to the inclosure in which the Empress, as the most honored of the brood mares, had lived with her foal. The little stable, a very model of order and appointment, stood at one end of it. She opened the gate, intending to leave the colt in the inclosure, but he huddled closer and closer to her side.

"Why Roy, baby, what is it!" asked Peggy, as she would have spoken to a child. The little thing could only press closer and nicker its baby nicker. Peggy hesitated a moment, then said: "It will never do to leave you now. You are half starved, you poor little thing. Eight weeks are NOT many to have lived. Come." And as though he understood every word and was comforted, the baby horse nickered again and walked close by her side. She went straight to the house, circling the garden, rich in early spring blossoms, to enter a little inclosure around which the servants' quarters were built, one building, a trifle more pretentious than the rest, evidently that of some upper servant. As Peggy and her four-footed companion drew near, a trim little old colored woman looked out of the door. She was immaculate in a black and white checked gingham, a large white apron and a white turban, suggestive of ante-bellum days. Instantly noting signs of distress upon her young mistress' face she hurried toward her, crying softly in her melodious voice:

"Baby! Honey! What's de matter? 'What's done happen? What fo' yo' bring
Roy up hyer? Where de Empress at?"

"Oh Mammy, Mammy, the Empress is dead. She—"

"What dat yo' tellin' me, baby? De Empress daid? Ma Lawd, wha' Massa Neil gwine do to we-all when he hyar DAT? He gwine kill SOMEBODY dat's sartin suah. What kill her?"

Peggy told the story briefly, Mammy Lucy, who had been mammy to her and her father before her, listening attentively, nodding her head and clicking her tongue in consternation. Such news was overwhelming.

But Mammy Lucy had not lived on this estate for over sixty years without storing up some wisdom for emergencies, and before Peggy had finished the pitiful tale she was on her way to the great kitchen at the opposite end of the inclosure where Aunt Cynthia ruled as dusky goddess of the shining copper kettles and pans upon the wall.

"Sis Cynthy, we-all in trebbilation and we gotter holp dis hyer pore chile. She lak fer ter breck her heart 'bout de Empress and she sho will if dis hyer colt come ter harm. Please, ma'am, gimme a basin o' fresh, warm milk. Bud he done gone down ter 'Napolis fer a nussin' bottle, but dat baby yonder gwine faint an' die fo' dat no 'count nigger git back wid dat bottle. I knows HIM, I does."

"Howyo' gwine mak' dat colt drink?" asked Cynthia skeptically.

"De Lawd on'y knows, but HE gwine show me how," was Mammy Lucy's pious answer. The next second she cried "Praise Him! I got it," and ran into her cabin to return with a piece of snowy white flannel. Meanwhile Cynthia had warmed the bowlful of milk. Hastily catching up a huge oilcloth apron, Mammy enveloped herself in it and then hurried back to Peggy and her charge.

From that moment Roy's artificial feeding began. Peggy raised his head while Mammy opened his mouth by inserting a skilful finger where later the bit would rest, then slipped in the milk-sopped woolen rag. After a few minutes the small beastie which had never known fear, understood and sucked away vigorously, for he had not fed for hours and the poor inner- colt was grumbling sorely at the long fast. The bowlful of milk soon disappeared, and he stood nozzling at Peggy ready for a frolic, his woes forgotten.

"Now what yo' gwine do wid him, honey?" asked Mammy.

"I'd like to put him to sleep on the piazza, but I'm afraid I can't," answered Peggy, smiling sadly, for the loss of the Empress had struck deeply.

"No, yo' suah cyant do dat," was Mammy's reply. "You'll be bleeged fer ter put him yonder in de paddock."

"He will be so lonesome," said Peggy doubtfully. Just then the great wolfhound came bounding up. She thrust her nose into her mistress' hand and gave a low bark of delight. She was almost as tall as the colt, and seemed to understand his needs. She then turned to give a greeting lick upon the colt's nose. He jerked away, as though resenting the lady's familiarity, but nickered softly. He had known Tzaritza from the first moment he became aware of things terrestrial and they had often gamboled together when the Empress was disinclined for a frolic. Peggy's eyes brightened.

"Tzaritza, attention!"

The splendid hound raised her head to look into her young mistress' eyes with keen intelligence.

"Come," and followed by the hound and colt Peggy hurried back to the stables. They had brought the Empress down from the pasture and laid her upon the soft turf of the large circular grass-plot in front of the main building. The men were now digging her grave.

"Tzaritza, scent," commanded Peggy, stroking the Empress' neck.

The hound made long, deep sniffs at the still form.

"Come." Peggy then laid her hand upon the little colt's neck. The scent was the same. Tzaritza understood.

"Guard," said Peggy.

"Woof-woof," answered Tzaritza deep down in her throat.

Peggy then led the way to the Empress' paddock. Roy capered through the gate; Tzaritza, with her newly-assumed responsibility upon her, entered with dignity. From that hour she scarcely left her charge, lying beside him when he rested in the shade of the great beeches, nestling close in the little stable at night, following him wherever he chose to go during his liberty hours of the day, for thenceforth he was rarely confined to the paddock.

Before the Empress was laid away Bud returned with the nursing bottle. The rubber nipples were thrust into the Empress' mouth and thus getting the mother scent all else was very simple. Roy tugged away at his bottle like a well-conducted, well-conditioned baby, Tzaritza watching with keen intelligent eyes. She soon knew the feeding hours as well as Peggy or Mammy, and promptly to the minute led her charge to Mammy's door. If Mammy happened to be elsewhere she sought Cynthia, and so had the interest grown that there was not a man, woman or child upon the place who would not have dropped anything in order to minister to the needs of Tzaritza's charge.

And so passed the early springtide, Roy waxing fat and strong, Tzaritza never relaxing her care, though at first it was a sore trial to her to remain behind with her foster-son while her beloved mistress galloped away upon Shashai. But that word "Guard" was sacred.

In the course of a few weeks, however, Roy was well able to follow his half-brother, Shashai, and Tzaritza's freedom was restored. The trio was rarely separated and to see Peggy in her hammock on the lawn, or on the piazza, meant to see the colt and Tzaritza also, though Roy was rapidly outgrowing piazzas and lawns, and Peggy was beginning to be puzzled as to what was to be done with him when he could no longer come clattering up the steps and across the piazza after his foster-mother.

With the summer came word that her father would come home on a month's leave and August was longed for with an eagerness he could not have dreamed. Everything must be in perfect order to receive him, and Peggy flew from house to garden, from garden to stables, from stables to paddock keyed to a state of excitement which infected every member of the household. Dr. Llewellyn smiled sympathetically. Harrison, the housekeeper, stalked after her, doing her best to carry out her orders, while announcing that: NOW, she guessed, there would be some hope of making Mr. Neil see the folly of letting a girl of Peggy's age run wild as a hawk forever and a day. She'd have one talk with him he'd do well to take heed to or she'd know why. Mammy Lucy said little but watched her young mistress' radiant face. It was eight months since Master Neil had been home and deep in her tender old heart she understood better than any one else what his coming meant to Peggy. Harrison might have a better idea of what was wise and best for her young charge, but Mammy's love taught her many things which Harrison could never learn.

Meanwhile Peggy spent the greater part of her days down at the paddock, for Shashai must be broken to saddle and bridle in order to receive his master in proper style. A blanket and halter might answer for the mad gallops across country which they had hitherto taken, but Daddy Neil was coming home for a month and the horses must do the place credit.

With this end in view, Peggy betook herself to the paddock one morning before breakfast, saddle and bridle borne behind her by Bud. Shashai welcomed her with his clear nicker, sweeping up to the gate in his long, rocking stride so like the Empress'. Tzaritza with her foster-son followed in Peggy's wake, Tzaritza sniffing inquiringly at the saddle, Roy pranking thither and yonder, rich just in the joy of being alive. Shashai had never quite overcome his jealousy of his young half-brother, and now laid back his ears in reproof of his unseemly gambols; Shashai's own babyhood was not far enough in the background for him to be tolerant.

Peggy entered the paddock and Shashai at once nozzled her for his morning lumps of sugar. For the first time in his memory they were not forthcoming, and his great eyes looked their wondering reproach.

"Not yet, Shashai. "We must keep them for a reward if you behave well." She slipped an arm over the beautifully arched neck and laid her face against the satiny smoothness. Shashai approved the caress but would have approved the sugar much more.

"Give me the saddle, Bud."

The little negro boy handed her the light racing saddle; a very featherweight of a saddle.

"Steady, Shashai."

The colt stood like a statue expecting the girl as usual to spring upon his back. Instead she placed upon it a stiff, leather affair which puzzled him not a little, and from which dangled two curious contrivances. These, however, she quickly caught up and fastened over the back and their metallic clicking ceased to annoy him. The buckling was a little strenuous. Hitherto a surcingle had served to hold the blanket upon his back, but this contraption had TWO surcingles and a stiff leather strap to boot, which Peggy's strong hands pulled tighter than any straps had ever before been pulled around him. He quivered slightly but stood the test and—a lump of sugar was held beneath his eager nostrils, If THAT followed it was worth while standing to have that ugly, stiff thing adjusted.

"Now the headstall, Bud. Did you coat the bit with the melted sugar as I told you?"

"Yes'm, missie. It's fair cracklin' wid sugar, an' onct he gits a lick ob dat bit he ain' never gwine let go, yo' hyar me."

"Now, my bonny one, we'll see," said Peggy, as she unstrapped the bit, and the headstall without it was no more than the halter to which Shashai had been accustomed. Then very gently she held the bit toward him. He tried to take it as he would have taken the sugar and his look of surprise when his lips closed over the hard metal thing was amusing. Nevertheless, it tasted good and he mouthed and licked it, gradually getting it well within his mouth. At an opportune moment Peggy slipped the right buckle into place, quickly following it by the left one. Shashai started.

"Steady, Shashai. Steady, boy," she said gently and the day was won. No shocks, no lashings, no harsh words to make the sight of that headstall throw him into a panic whenever it was produced. Dozens of horses had been so educated by Peggy Stewart. Shashai sucked at his queer mouthpiece as a child would suck a stick of candy, and while he was enjoying its sweetness Peggy brought forth lump number two. Four was his daily allowance, and as he enjoyed number two she let down the stirrups which had seemed likely to startle him.

"Stand outside, Bud, he may be a little frightened when the saddle creaks." The boy left the paddock.

"Stand, Shashai," commanded Peggy, resting her hand upon the colt's withers. He knew perfectly well what to expect, but why that strange groaning and creaking? The blanket had never done so. The sensitive nerves quivered and he sprang forward, but Peggy had caught her stirrups and her low voice quieted him as she swayed and adapted herself to his gait. Around and around the paddock they loped in perfect harmony of motion. She did not draw upon the bridle rein, merely holding it as she had been accustomed to hold her halter strap, guiding by her knees. Shashai tossed his head partly in nervous irritation at the creaking saddle, partly in the joy of motion, and joy won the day. Then Peggy began to draw slightly upon her reins. The colt shook his head impatiently as though asking: "Wherefor the need? I know exactly where you wish to go."

"Oh, my bonny one, my bonny one, that is just it! I know that you know, but someday someone else won't know, and if I don't teach you now just what the bit means the poor mouth may pay the penalty. It may anyway, in spite of all I can do, but I'll do my best to make it an easy lesson. Oh why, why will people pull and tug as they do on a horse's mouth when there is nothing in this world so sensitive, or that should be so lightly handled. So be patient, Shashai. We only use it because we must, dear. Now, right, turn!" And with the words she pressed her right knee against the colt, at the same time drawing gently upon the right rein. Shashai turned because he had always done so at the words and the pressure, accepting the bit's superfluous hint like the gentleman he was.

"Open the gate, Bud. We'll go for a spin," ordered Peggy as she swung around the paddock.

"Won't yo' jump, missie?" asked Bud eagerly. The delight of his life was to see his young mistress take a fence.

"Not this time," answered Peggy over her shoulder. Bud opened the gate as they came around again and as Peggy cried: "Four bells, Shashai," the colt sprang through, Tzaritza and Roy joining in with a happy bark and neigh.

All so simply, so easily done by love's gentle rule.