a platform at the station a large hand was thrust in through the slats, and a friendly voice began talking to him. He loved the voice from the first, and knew at once that this man loved horses.
"You poor leetle divil. Shutting you up in that prison like a jail-bird, and not givin' you space to stretch your legs. And it's Jerry McCoy that will see you are released as soon as he can git you home. That he will."
While the pleasant voice had been speaking, the gentle hand had been stroking Dapples's nose and caressing his forehead. So he knew that everything was all right.
After a short ride in a farm wagon they arrived at Rosemere, the country home of Sir Arthur Homesdale, Dapples's new owner. Arrived at the stables, Jerry, the groom, called a helper, and together they lifted Dapples's crate from the wagon, and, sooner than it takes to tell, Jerry had knocked off the side and led the small
