pag161iloIT WAS THE WHITE-HAIRED MASTER
pag161ilo
IT WAS THE WHITE-HAIRED MASTER
"Hello! Hello!"
It seemed to come from the road, half a mile away, and Aaron knew that there was no house in that direction for a traveler or a passer-by to hail. There was something in the tone that suggested distress.
Without waiting to listen again, the Arab started for the road in a rapid trot. He thought he heard it again as he ran, and this caused him to run the faster. He climbed the fence that marked the line of the road, and sat there a moment; but all was silence, save the soft clamor of insects and frogs that is a feature of the first half of the night.
Aaron had now come to a point from which he could reach the Swamp more conveniently by following the road for half a mile, though he would have another hill to climb. As he jumped from the fence into the road the cry came to his ears again, and this time with startling distinctness:
"Hello! Hello! Oh, isn't there some one to hear me?"
It was so plainly the call of some one in distress that Aaron shouted an answer of encouragement, and ran as fast as he could in the direction fromwhich the sound came. The situation was so new to Rambler that, instead of making ahead to investigate and report, he stuck to Aaron, whining uneasily. As the Son of Ben Ali ran he saw dimly outlined at the foot of the hill a short distance beyond him a huge something that refused to take a recognizable shape until he stood beside it, and even then it was startling enough. It was the Gray Mare, Timoleon's sister, lying at full length by the side of the road, and underneath her the Son of Ben Ali knew he would find the White-Haired Master. But it was not as bad as it might have been.
"Hurt much, Master?" said Aaron, leaning over Mr. Abercrombie and touching him on the shoulder.
"Not seriously," replied the White-Haired Master. "But the leg that is under the mare is numb."
The Gray Mare, after falling, had done nothing more than whinny. If she had struggled to rise, the White-Haired Master's leg would have needed a doctor: and if she had risen to her feet and started home the doctor would have been unnecessary, for the imprisoned foot was caught in the stirrup.
Well for Mr. Abercrombie that Aaron knew the Gray Mare, and that the Gray Mare knew Aaron. She whinnied when the runaway spoke to her. She raised her head and gathered her forefeet under her, and then suddenly, at a word from Aaron, lifted her weight from the leg, while the foot was taken from the stirrup. Again the word was given and the Gray Mare rose easily to her feet and shook herself.
"Can you walk, Master?" Aaron asked.
"I think so—certainly."
Yet it was not an easy thing to do. Though the limb was not broken, owing to the fact that the ground was damp and soft where the Gray Mare fell, yet it had been imprisoned for some time, and it was both numb and bruised. The numbness was in evidence now, as the White-Haired Master rose to his feet and tried to walk; the bruises would speak for themselves to-morrow.
"What is your name?" Mr. Abercrombie asked.
"I am called Aaron, Master."
"I thought so, and I'm glad of it. Some day I'll thank you; but now—pins and needles!" The blood was beginning to circulate in the numbleg, and this was not by any means a pleasant experience. Aaron shortened it somewhat by rubbing the limb vigorously.
"Are you still in the woods, Aaron?"
"Yes, Master."
"Well, I'm sorry. I wish you belonged to me."
"I'm wishing harder than you, Master."
"What a pity—what a pity!"
"Don't get too sorry, Master."
"No; it would do no good."
"And don't blame the Gray Mare for stumbling, Master. The saddle too high on her shoulders, the belly-band too tight, and her shoes nailed on in the dark."
Aaron helped Mr. Abercrombie to mount. "Good-night, Master!"
"Good-night, Aaron!"
The Arab watched the Gray Mare and her rider until the darkness hid them from view. And no wonder! He was the only man, living or dead, that the Son of Ben Ali had ever called "Master." Why? Aaron tried to make the matter clear to his own mind, and while he was doing his best to unravel the problem he heard buggy wheels rattle on the hilltop. The horse must have shied atsomething just then, for a harsh voice cried out, followed by the sound of a whip falling cruelly on the creature's back. The wheels rattled louder as the creature leaped frantically from under the whip. The harsh voice cried "Whoa!" three times, twice in anger, and the third time in mortal fear. And then Aaron knew that he had another adventure on his hands.