Then he stood silently watching as with swift skilfulness John swathed
the horse's limbs in flannel. "I guess Sultan misses you, John. Over at
the college livery their fingers are all thumbs."

"Poor Sultan!" was all John's answer, as he led the horse into a large
paddock thickly strewn with fresh straw.

A night full of stars--silent and sweet. John Randolph leaned on the
broad gate which opened into the green road where he had lingered in the
afternoon. The thoughts which surged through his brain made sleep
impossible, and so, lighting his bull's-eye, he had gone to the stables
to see how Sultan was faring, and then wandered on under the mystery of
the stars.

The night was warm. A breeze heavy with perfume lifted the hair from his
brow. He heard the low breathing of the cattle as they dozed in the
fields on either side, and the soft whirr of downy plumage as the great
owl which had built its nest among the eaves of the new barn flew past
him. Suddenly a warm nose was thrust against his shoulder and, with the
assurance of a spoilt beauty, the cow laid her head upon his arm. He
lifted his other hand and stroked it gently.

"Hah, Primrose! Are you awake, old lady? What are your views of life
now, Prim? Do the shadows make it seem more weird and grand, or does
midnight lose its awesomeness when one is upon four legs?"

He looked away to where the stars were throbbing with tender light,
crimson and green and gold, and the words of the book which he had been
studying every leisure moment for the past six weeks swept across his
mental vision.