"Well, at it old man," laughed Gething. At a signal Cuddy flew at it,
rose into the air with magnificent strength and landed like
thistle-down.
"Cuddy," cried the man, "there never was a jumper like you.
Break-Neck will keep, we'll find some more walls first." He crossed
the road and entered a rough pasture. It was a day of such abounding
life one could pity the worm the robin pulled. For on such a day
everything seemed to have the right to live and be happy. The crows
sauntered across the sky, care free as hoboes. Under foot the meadow
turf oozed water, the shad-bush petals fell like confetti before the
rough assault of horse and rider. Gething liked this day of wind and
sunshine. In the city there had been the smell of oiled streets to
show that spring had come, here was the smell of damp earth, pollen,
and burnt brush. Suddenly he realized that Cuddy, too, was pleased
and contented for he was going quietly now, occasionally he threw up
his head and blew "Heh, heh!" through his nostrils. Strange that
Willet had thought Cuddy wanted to kill some one--all he really
wanted was a bit of a canter.
A brook was reached. It was wide, marshy, edged with cowslips. It
would take a long jump to clear it. Gething felt the back gather
beneath him, the tense body flung into the air, the flight through
space, then the landing well upon the firm bank.
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