"You'll have quite enough to do to take yourself across, I should say," and we were off.
"I'll bring you back on Black Boy," cried Torode consolingly to Carette.
Gray Robin's mild eyes glanced apprehensively into the depths as we went slowly over, and his ears and nostrils twitched to and fro at the growl of the surf down below on either side.

I held him firmly by the head and soothed him with encouraging words.

The old horse snuffled between gratitude and disgust, and Carette clung tightly up above, and vowed that she would not cross on Black Boy whatever Torode might say.
She was devoutly thankful, I could see, when Gray Robin stepped safely onto the spreading bulk of Little Sercq.

I lifted her down, and loosed the old horse's bit and set him free for a crop among the sweet short grasses of the hillside, while we sat down with the rest to watch the others come over.
Caution was the order of the day.

Most of the girls kept their seats and braved the passage in token of confidence in their convoys.