She had come to steal a horse. Horses were here for her choice.
The hidden beasts in their stalls snorted suspiciously when Hilma dropped through to the interior of the stable. A fresh wave of panic drenched her; she dropped behind a pile of bagged oats and listened to the thump-thump of her heart. No inquiring footsteps up where that single lantern hung between the farthest stall and the saddle pegs. The stable seemed deserted of men.
It was long before the girl mustered her courage to the point where she could dare venture on skipping toes down the stall lane where hung the saddles. She lifted one off its peg, threw across her arm the saddle blanket resting beneath and started back to pick her horse. It required all her strength to hold the saddle high so that dragging stumps would not betray her. She turned into one pitch-black stall at the rearmost end of the alley, whispered soothing words to the beast that resented her intrusion with a whiffling snort and prancing hoofs, then spread the blanket across its back. Just as Hilma was lifting the saddle into place the sound of footsteps at the entrance of the stable sent a stab through her heart.
