"Maybe you will; but I 'd better be getting along before
sundown,--'gainst the law to ride this horse a piece through those
woods?" He pointed into the Park.
"Oh, no, that's all right. Keep along till you come to Seventieth
Street, and inquire; and then turn into Fifth Avenue--east--and you're
there."
"Much obliged. Like to show you a trail or two up in Vermont when you
come that way. Get, Fleet." The animal set forward into a long, loping
gallop.
The brilliant, light green of the May foliage was enhanced by the level
rays of the setting sun, as the man turned his horse into Fifth Avenue
and drew rein to a rapid walk. Many a one paused to look at him as he
paced over the asphalt. He was looking up at the mansions of the Upper
East Side. Soon he halted at the corner of a side street and gazed up
at the first house, the end of which, with the conservatory, was on the
Avenue, but the entrance on the side street. "That's the place," he
spoke to himself,--"don't see a hitchin'-post handy, so I 'll just have
to tie up to this electric light stand. Iron, by thunder!--Well, there
ain't any risk so long as 't isn't lit, 'n' there ain't a tempest."
Leaving his horse firmly tied to the standard he stepped up on the low,
broad stoop of "Number 4," and looked for the bell. Not finding any he
knocked forcibly on the carved iron grill that protected the plate-glass
doors.
The great doors flew open, and a face--"blacker 'n thunder"--as the man
said to himself, scowled on the interloper.
"Wha' fo' yo' come hyar, yo'--" He got no further. A horny hand was
extended, and a cheery voice, that broke into a laugh, spoke the
assuaging words:
"Guess you 're Wilkins, ain't you? I 've heard Lady-bird tell 'bout you
till I feel as if we 'd been pretty well acquainted goin' on nigh two
year now."
By this time Wilkins' face was one broad beam. He slapped his free hand
on his knee:
"Yo 's Mister Chi, for sho'--dere ain't no need yo' tellin'. Yo' jes'
come straight in, Mister Chi; Marse John an' little Missy jes' gone fo'
ah drive in de Park. Dey 'll be in any minute. Yo' room 's all ready,
an' little Missy put de flow'rs in fresh dis yere mornin'--''Case,' she
say, 'Wilkins, dere ain't no tellin' when Chi's comin'.'"
"Sho'," Chi interrupted him, brushing the back of his hand hastily
across his eyes. "I can't come in now, Wilkins, coz I 've got to stay
here 'n' watch my horse--I 'll sit here on the steps a spell 'n' cool
off till Mr. Clyde gets home, 'n' he 'll help me see to puttin' up Fleet
for the night. His legs are a little mite swollen near the hocks, 'n' I
'm goin' to rub him down myself."
"De coachman jes' tend to yo' hoss like 's ef 't wor yo'se'f, Mister
Chi. I 'll jes' call up de stable bo', 'n' he 'll rub him down wif
sp'r'ts, an' shine him up till he look jes' lake new mahog'ny. Jes' yo'
come--dere dey come now!"
Chi was at the curbstone to welcome them.
"Chi! O Chi!" Hazel rose up in the trap at sight of the well-known
figure, and Chi, laying his hand firmly on Martin's shoulder, put him
aside as he sprang to open the door and let down the steps, reached up
both arms, and took Hazel out as tenderly as on the night of her first
arrival at the farmhouse on the Mountain. And then and there Hazel gave
him a kiss, and Mr. Clyde grasped his hands in both his, and the wide
hall doors that Wilkins had thrown open to their fullest extent closed
upon the reunited friends.
"'E 's a 'ansome 'oss," Martin remarked to the coachman, as he mounted
Fleet to take him to the stable; "Hi 'ave n't seen a 'ansomer since Hi
've bean in the States."
A few days after the hall doors were again flung wide, but not to their
fullest extent, and Wilkins' face grew strangely tremulous when he heard
Hazel and Mr. Clyde, Jack and Chi coming down the broad hall stairs.
Martin was proudly leading Fleet and Little Shaver up and down in front
of the house.
"Jack! O Jack! I can't bear to have you go--but I _will_ be brave."
Hazel smiled through the raining tears. She clung to him and kissed him.
He put her aside, ran out to Little Shaver, and flung himself on before
Chi had said good-bye.
"Take care of Jack, Chi," she whispered, patting his hand.
"I will, Barbara Frietchie." He pointed to the flag that, in the east
wind blowing in from the Sound, was waving over the entrance, gripped
Mr. Clyde's hand, then Wilkins', and, apparently, stepped into the
saddle.
"Quick, quick, Wilkins! lower the flag, and let me have it." Wilkins
sprang to obey. Hazel seized it, and rushed up stairs to the
drawing-room, the windows of which overlooked the Avenue. One of them
was open; she leaned out; and as Fleet and Little Shaver turned the
corner, their riders, looking up, saw the young girl's figure in the
opening. She was waving the symbol of their Country's life and their
manhood's loyalty.
They halted, baring their heads for a moment--then without once looking
back, galloped down the Avenue.