stamp of old Greylegs as he pawed on the snow, eager for the stable
just round the corner.

It was very nice to get round the corner and to see the lights of the
house a little way in front of us; in a minute or two we were
there. Mrs Cottier had been dragged in to the fire to all sorts of
comforting drinks and exclamations, and old Greylegs was snug in his
stable having his coat rubbed down before going to sleep under his
rug. We were all glad to get to bed that night: Hugh and my aunt were
tired with anxiety, and Mrs Cottier and I had had enough adventure to
make us very thankful for rest.

Before we parted for the night she drew me to one side and told me
that she had not mentioned the night-riders to my uncle and aunt while
I was busy in the stable, and that it might be safer if I, too, kept
quiet about them. I do not know how she explained the absence of
Nigger, but I am sure they were all too thankful to have her safely
home again to bother much about the details of her drive.

Hugh and I always slept in soldier's cot-beds in a little room looking
out over the lane. During the night we heard voices, and footsteps
moving in the lane beneath us, and our dog (always kennelled at the
back of the house) barked a good deal. Hugh and I crept from our bed
and peered through the window, but it opened the wrong way; we could
only look down the lane, whereas the noise seemed to come from just
above us, near the stable door; unluckily, the frost had covered the
window with ice-flowers, so that we could not see through the
glass. We were, however, quite certain that there were people with
lights close to our stable door; we thought at first that we had
better call Mrs Cottier, and then it flashed through my mind that