But hark! His sob was not fully spent, when he lifted his head with a throb of returning hope. Could he believe his ears? Whose friendly voice had he heard ring out on the night in answer to his cry? With a shout he sprang to his feet, and called aloud. Again that welcome response, followed now by the sound of hurrying steps he knew so well.
"It is! It is! Annie, Annie, Annie!" He had not been deceived. He was over the fence like a ball, and down at the gate as fast as his feet could carry him, calling in half-sobs as he ran:
"Annie, Annie, old girl! Hurry! Hurry! It's for Judy, Annie — it's for Judy!" And in shorter time than pen can write it, he was on her bare back and away.
What need to explain?
Annie, nibbling the night away under the moon, in the pasture, had been startled from her pensive meditation by that heart-breaking cry of her young master. Catching its note of despair, like the loyal servant that she was, she had lifted her voice in loud, quick, sympathetic response.
A neighbour was heard to say, the following day: "That mare of Bryce's whinnied like she wanted to wake up the whole town last night."
As to Annie herself, she could not guess what catastrophe had brought Kit to her in such distress at this hour of the night, but she felt intuitively that the vindication of the entire equine race might depend upon her speed. With his hands gripped firmly on her neck, and his knees pressed well into her sides, Kit held his breath at the pace she set. On, on like the wind! And the clatter of her hoofs played good part too, for, long before the house was reached, their sound had struck Doctor Morton's keen ears like a call to duty, and brought him to the door before Kit had turned into the yard.
