Greatly refreshed by this opportune bit and sup, the tired and "droukit"
rider cheerfully resumed his way; and it was with a stout heart that,
after a certain time, he found Roderick cautiously leading the pony down
to the water's edge. And then a sudden thought struck him.
"Look here, Roderick," said he, "I suppose I can get across this ford
safely enough; but how on earth am I to know when I get to the next one?
I can't see a yard in front of the pony's head."
"I'm coming with ye, sir," was the simple answer; and at the same moment
there was a general splashing which told him that both Maggie and the
tall keeper were in the rushing stream.
"Well, I suppose you can't be wetter than you are," he said.
"Indeed, that's true," Roderick answered, with much composure.
Now this first ford, though a ticklish thing in the pitch darkness, they
managed successfully enough; but the next one proved a terrible
business. Roderick went by the pony's head, with his hand on the bridle;
but whether he helped Maggie, or whether Maggie helped him, it would be
hard to say. Lionel could only guess what a mighty floundering there was
going on; but Roderick kept encouraging his four-footed companion to
hold up; and more than once, when they attained a safe footing, he
called a halt to let the faithful Maggie recover her breath.
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