face and breast cased in steel, his body clothed in rich trappings that almost dragged the ground — oh, a most noble picture. A great shout went up, of welcome and admiration.

And then out I came. But I didn’t get any shout. There was a wondering and eloquent silence for a moment, then a great wave of laughter began to sweep along that human sea, but a warning bugle-blast cut its career short.

I was in the simplest and comfortablest of gymnast costumes — flesh-colored tights from neck to heel, with blue silk puffings about my loins, and bareheaded. My horse was not above medium size, but he was alert, slender-limbed, muscled with watchsprings, and just a greyhound to go. He was a beauty, glossy as silk, and naked as he was when he was born, except for bridle and ranger-saddle.