As the sun sank and the dusk grew John stood up.

He saw that the night was going to be dark and he was thankful.

The Marne was merely a silver streak in the shadow, and in the wood near by the trees were fusing into a single clump of darkness.
He stood erect, stretching his muscles and feeling that it was glorious to be a man with his head in the air, instead of a creature that grovelled on the ground.

Then he walked over to the horse and patted him on the shoulder.
"Marne, old boy," he said, "I think it's about time for you and me to go." The horse rubbed his great head against John's arm, signifying that he was ready to obey any command his new master might give him.

John knew from his build that he was a draught horse, but there were times in which one could not choose a particular horse for a particular need.
"Marne, old fellow," he said, stroking the animal's mane, "you're not to be a menial cart horse tonight.