Chapter Fifteen.

Chapter Fifteen.We followed him, and as we turned through the baize door so as to go down the front staircase, Mercer and I managed to exchange a grip of the hand.Directly after, we caught sight of the great roan horse at the door champing its bit, and sending flakes of foam flying over its glossy coat, and I noticed even then that one white spot fell on the groom’s dark brown coat.Then, once more drawing a deep breath, we walked in together through the door Mr Rebble threw open, and closed behind us, when, as if through a mist, I saw the Doctor sitting at a writing-table, looking very stern and portly, the General, grey, fierce, and rather red-faced, seated a little way to the Doctor’s right, with his malacca cane between his legs, and his hands, in their bright brown gloves, resting on the ivory handle, so that his arms and elbows stood out squarely; while again on his right, about a couple of yards away, stood big, dark, and burly-looking Bob Hopley, in his best brown velveteen jacket.“Er-rum!” coughed the Doctor as the door was closed, and we looked sharply round at the stern faces before us, Bob Hopley favouring us with a solemn wink, which I interpreted to mean, “I forgive you, my lads.” Then the Doctor spoke.“Stand there, Thomas Mercer and Frank Burr. That will do. Now, Sir Hawkhurst, will you have the goodness to repeat the charge in their presence.”The old officer faced fiercely round on the Doctor.“Hang it all, sir!” he cried; “am I the magistrate, or are you?”“You are the magistrate, sir,” said the Doctor gravely, “but I am the master. The distinction is slight, but I allow no one to stand between me and my boys. Unless you are going to proceed legally against them to punish I must request you to let me be their judge.”“Beg pardon, beg pardon,” said the General sharply, “Old soldier, sir—been much in India, and the climate made me hot. Go on!”I glanced at him quickly as I heard him mention India, and he caught my eye, and shook his fist at me fiercely.“You young dog!” he roared; “how dare you come after my rabbits!”“Excuse me,” said the Doctor.“Yes, yes, of course. Well, Doctor Browne, my keeper and I were out taking a look round at the young pheasants in their coops last evening, when we took these confounded young dogs red-handed, ferreting rabbits with that scoundrelly poaching vagabond you have taken into your service, when nobody else would give him a job.”“Ah, yes,” said the Doctor blandly, “you complained of my employing that man, Sir Hawkhurst. The fact is, he came to me, saying that he had been cruelly misjudged, that he was half starved, and begged me to give him a job. I did so, to give him another chance. Of course, after this, and the fact that my gardener gives him a very bad character and seems much dissatisfied, I shall not employ him again.”“And very wisely,” said the old officer. “Well, sir, that’s all I’ve got to say. That is my evidence.”“Thank you,” said the Doctor magisterially. “And you, my good man, were with your master, and saw the boys—my boys—engaged there?”“Yes, sir,” said Bob Hopley, touching the black curls over his forehead. “Rabbit and ferret produced.”As he spoke, he pulled out of one big pocket the dead rabbit, and out of the other the twining and writhing ferret, at which the Doctor gazed with interest through his gold spectacles.“Singular animal!” said the Doctor, “specially designed by nature for threading its way through the narrow labyrinthine burrows of the rabbit and the rat.”“Confound it all, sir!” said the General—“I beg pardon, I beg pardon.”During the last few minutes the wheels of a carriage had been heard on the gravel drive, and the dog-cart had been driven aside. Then the big bell had clanged, and all had been silent again. For the moment, I had wondered whether it was a parish constable come for us, but the next I had forgotten all about it, till one of the maids entered, with a couple of cards on a tray, which she went round and handed to the Doctor.“Bless me!” he exclaimed, flushing, as the General made an impatient gesture, and relieved his feelings by shaking his fist at us both, while Bob Hopley began to smooth the ferret with his great brown, hairy hand.“Well, sir?” said the General.“Excuse me,” said the Doctor. “A most curious coincidence. Two visitors.”“No, sir, no visitors now; business, if you please. Those two boys—”“Excuse me,” said the Doctor blandly. “The two visitors are the relatives of one of these boys.”Mercer gave quite a start, and I pitied him.Poor Tom’s father and mother, I said mentally, and then I gave a start too, for the General said fiercely,—“By George! then they couldn’t have come better. Show them in, and I’ll have a word or two with the boy’s father.”The Doctor made a sign; the maid withdrew; and I pressed a little closer to Mercer, and pinched his arm.“I’ll take my share,” I whispered quietly, as the door was opened. The Doctor and the General both rose, as there was the rustle of silk, and I uttered quite a sob as I was clasped in my mother’s arms.“My dearest boy,” she cried, as she kissed me fondly, while I shrank away, for my stern-looking, military uncle came in with her.“Why, Charley!” roared the General.“What, Hawk!” cried my uncle boisterously, and the two old officers grasped each other’s hands, and stood shaking them heartily.“Why, my dear old man,” cried the General, “this is a surprise!”“Surprise! I should think it is,” cried my uncle. “I am delighted. Like old times, eh?”“Hah!” ejaculated the General, chuckling, and looking now transformed into a very genial old gentleman, while the Doctor stood softly stroking his shirt-frill and smiling benignantly.“But one moment,” cried my uncle. “My sister—poor old Frank Burr’s wife.”“Dear, dear, bless me!” cried the General, advancing with courtly, chivalric respect to shake hands with my mother. “My dear madam,” he said softly, “it is an honour. I knew your poor husband well.”As he dropped my mother’s hand, she bent her head, and her veil sank down, while the General’s eyes fell upon me, and the transformation was comic.“Here,” he whispered to my uncle, as I looked from one to the other, and saw the Doctor smiling blandly. “This—this boy—not—Frank Burr’s—”“Yes,” said my uncle, nodding to me. “Pupil here. Send him into the service by and by.”“Bless my soul!—Oh dear me!—Here—I—that is—” stammered the General, looking from one to the other, till his eyes lit on Bob Hopley, when he flushed up angrily.“How dare you, sir! How dare you stand there, with that rabbit and that wretched ferret! Don’t you see that there are ladies present, sir. ’Tention! Put them away. Dress!”“Here, stop,” said my uncle sharply, as he looked round, “We have interrupted some business.”“No, no, no, no, my dear boy!—nothing, nothing!” cried the General. “Mere trifle.”“Trifle, eh?” said my uncle, drawing himself up, and looking the fierce colonel of dragoons. “Frank!”“Yes, uncle,” I said shrinkingly.“You are in some scrape.”“Yes, uncle.”“What have you been doing?”“Oh, Charles, pray—pray—” cried my mother.“Hush,” he said, holding up his hand. “Now, sir, speak out.”“Really, my dear Charley—” cried the General.“Allow me, please, sir,” said my uncle; and I caught sight of the Doctor raising his hand and making a sign to my mother, as he placed a chair for her, an act of politeness needed, for she was turning faint. “Now, sir, speak out—the simple facts, please. What have you been doing?”“Rabbiting with a ferret, uncle, us two, and this gentleman and Bob Hopley came and caught us.”“Rabbiting—poaching?”“Yes, yes, yes,” cried the General. “A mere nothing, my dear madam. The boys were certainly on my grounds watching a poaching scoundrel, and I—yes, I thought I’d say a word to the Doctor. Bad company for him, a poacher—eh, my dear Charley?”“Yes, rather,” said my uncle dryly.“And now,” said the General, “Doctor Browne here—my neighbour—will tell them not to do so any more—eh, Doctor, eh?”“Certainly,” said the Doctor. “I’m sure it will not occur again.”“No, no, of course not,” said the General. “Hopley, you can go. Stop! that ferret belongs to the boys, I think.”“To you, Frank?” said my uncle.“No, uncle, it’s his,” I said. “But I was helping to use it.”“Hah! that’s better,” said my uncle sharply.“I bought the ferret,” said Mercer, speaking for the first time, “but I don’t want it. I’ll give it to you, Bob.”“Yes, yes, very wise of you, my lad. There, go now, Hopley,” said the General.The keeper touched his forehead, and gave a look all round, then winked solemnly at Mercer and me, and left the room.“Hah!” said the General; “then that little bit of business is settled, Doctor, eh? Just a word or two.”“A few admonitions, my dear sir,” said the Doctor blandly. “And now, if you will excuse me for a while, I will retire with Mercer here.”Tom gave me a look so full of appeal, that I ran across to the Doctor.“Don’t punish him, sir!” I said imploringly. “We were both alike.”“What’s that, Frank?” said my uncle.“I asked the Doctor not to punish Tom Mercer, uncle.”“No, no, no: of course not!” cried the General; “I endorse that appeal. Here, you sir, come to me. Gentlemen don’t do such things as that; and now we all know better, I’ve got some capital fishing in my ponds and lakes, and I shall be happy to see you two at any time. There, shake hands.”Tom jumped at him, and it was pleasant to see how delighted he looked as he turned and shot a grateful glance at the General before the door closed on him and the Doctor.Then the two old officers began chatting eagerly together about past times, while I sat by my mother as she held my hand, and I told her the history of my escapade, which was hardly finished when my uncle said,—“I’m sorry to come down and find you in disgrace, Frank. Not the conduct of one who means to be an officer and a gentleman by and by.”“No, no: don’t say any more,” said the General. “The boy behaved very well. Liked a bit of sport; all boys do. He shall have a bit of rabbiting now and then.”“Then I shall say no more,” said my uncle. “Try and be like your name, my boy, and you will find me ready to forgive your scrapes; but you must always be a gentleman.”“Amen to that,” said the General, rising. “And now, my dear Mrs Burr, I will not say good-bye, butau revoir. Seaborough here tells me you are both going to stay in Hastings for a few days. I shall drive over and see you. Good-bye.”He showed the same courtly respect to her again, and was rising to go when the Doctor re-entered, and they parted the best of friends.“No, no, no,” cried the General, as the Doctor was coming out with him, “stay with your visitors. Odd meeting, wasn’t it? Here, you, Frank Burr, come and see me off. Good-day, Doctor, good-day. You and I must be better neighbours.”“I shall be proud,” said the Doctor, and then I went to the cart with the General, who stood holding my hand at the step, and I could feel a coin therein.“For you two boys,” he said. “There, good-bye, Frank Burr. You must grow up into a brave gentleman like your father. A thorough soldier, sir. God bless you, my boy! Good-bye.”He took the reins and got in, the groom left the horse’s head and mounted beside him, and as the cart was driven off, and I stood there with a sovereign in my hand, Bob Hopley, who was in his place behind, gave me another solemn wink, while, after noticing the hired carriage in which my mother and my uncle had driven over from Hastings, I went back into the room and stayed with them, and afterwards went to show them the building and grounds.An hour after, they were gone, while I hurried off to find Mercer and show him the sovereign.“Well,” he said, “that’s all right. But, I say, don’t some things turn out rum! What are you going to do with all that money?”“Half’s yours,” I said.“Oh, is it? Well, let’s make a bank. It’ll do to pay old Lomax and lots of things.”

We followed him, and as we turned through the baize door so as to go down the front staircase, Mercer and I managed to exchange a grip of the hand.

Directly after, we caught sight of the great roan horse at the door champing its bit, and sending flakes of foam flying over its glossy coat, and I noticed even then that one white spot fell on the groom’s dark brown coat.

Then, once more drawing a deep breath, we walked in together through the door Mr Rebble threw open, and closed behind us, when, as if through a mist, I saw the Doctor sitting at a writing-table, looking very stern and portly, the General, grey, fierce, and rather red-faced, seated a little way to the Doctor’s right, with his malacca cane between his legs, and his hands, in their bright brown gloves, resting on the ivory handle, so that his arms and elbows stood out squarely; while again on his right, about a couple of yards away, stood big, dark, and burly-looking Bob Hopley, in his best brown velveteen jacket.

“Er-rum!” coughed the Doctor as the door was closed, and we looked sharply round at the stern faces before us, Bob Hopley favouring us with a solemn wink, which I interpreted to mean, “I forgive you, my lads.” Then the Doctor spoke.

“Stand there, Thomas Mercer and Frank Burr. That will do. Now, Sir Hawkhurst, will you have the goodness to repeat the charge in their presence.”

The old officer faced fiercely round on the Doctor.

“Hang it all, sir!” he cried; “am I the magistrate, or are you?”

“You are the magistrate, sir,” said the Doctor gravely, “but I am the master. The distinction is slight, but I allow no one to stand between me and my boys. Unless you are going to proceed legally against them to punish I must request you to let me be their judge.”

“Beg pardon, beg pardon,” said the General sharply, “Old soldier, sir—been much in India, and the climate made me hot. Go on!”

I glanced at him quickly as I heard him mention India, and he caught my eye, and shook his fist at me fiercely.

“You young dog!” he roared; “how dare you come after my rabbits!”

“Excuse me,” said the Doctor.

“Yes, yes, of course. Well, Doctor Browne, my keeper and I were out taking a look round at the young pheasants in their coops last evening, when we took these confounded young dogs red-handed, ferreting rabbits with that scoundrelly poaching vagabond you have taken into your service, when nobody else would give him a job.”

“Ah, yes,” said the Doctor blandly, “you complained of my employing that man, Sir Hawkhurst. The fact is, he came to me, saying that he had been cruelly misjudged, that he was half starved, and begged me to give him a job. I did so, to give him another chance. Of course, after this, and the fact that my gardener gives him a very bad character and seems much dissatisfied, I shall not employ him again.”

“And very wisely,” said the old officer. “Well, sir, that’s all I’ve got to say. That is my evidence.”

“Thank you,” said the Doctor magisterially. “And you, my good man, were with your master, and saw the boys—my boys—engaged there?”

“Yes, sir,” said Bob Hopley, touching the black curls over his forehead. “Rabbit and ferret produced.”

As he spoke, he pulled out of one big pocket the dead rabbit, and out of the other the twining and writhing ferret, at which the Doctor gazed with interest through his gold spectacles.

“Singular animal!” said the Doctor, “specially designed by nature for threading its way through the narrow labyrinthine burrows of the rabbit and the rat.”

“Confound it all, sir!” said the General—“I beg pardon, I beg pardon.”

During the last few minutes the wheels of a carriage had been heard on the gravel drive, and the dog-cart had been driven aside. Then the big bell had clanged, and all had been silent again. For the moment, I had wondered whether it was a parish constable come for us, but the next I had forgotten all about it, till one of the maids entered, with a couple of cards on a tray, which she went round and handed to the Doctor.

“Bless me!” he exclaimed, flushing, as the General made an impatient gesture, and relieved his feelings by shaking his fist at us both, while Bob Hopley began to smooth the ferret with his great brown, hairy hand.

“Well, sir?” said the General.

“Excuse me,” said the Doctor. “A most curious coincidence. Two visitors.”

“No, sir, no visitors now; business, if you please. Those two boys—”

“Excuse me,” said the Doctor blandly. “The two visitors are the relatives of one of these boys.”

Mercer gave quite a start, and I pitied him.

Poor Tom’s father and mother, I said mentally, and then I gave a start too, for the General said fiercely,—

“By George! then they couldn’t have come better. Show them in, and I’ll have a word or two with the boy’s father.”

The Doctor made a sign; the maid withdrew; and I pressed a little closer to Mercer, and pinched his arm.

“I’ll take my share,” I whispered quietly, as the door was opened. The Doctor and the General both rose, as there was the rustle of silk, and I uttered quite a sob as I was clasped in my mother’s arms.

“My dearest boy,” she cried, as she kissed me fondly, while I shrank away, for my stern-looking, military uncle came in with her.

“Why, Charley!” roared the General.

“What, Hawk!” cried my uncle boisterously, and the two old officers grasped each other’s hands, and stood shaking them heartily.

“Why, my dear old man,” cried the General, “this is a surprise!”

“Surprise! I should think it is,” cried my uncle. “I am delighted. Like old times, eh?”

“Hah!” ejaculated the General, chuckling, and looking now transformed into a very genial old gentleman, while the Doctor stood softly stroking his shirt-frill and smiling benignantly.

“But one moment,” cried my uncle. “My sister—poor old Frank Burr’s wife.”

“Dear, dear, bless me!” cried the General, advancing with courtly, chivalric respect to shake hands with my mother. “My dear madam,” he said softly, “it is an honour. I knew your poor husband well.”

As he dropped my mother’s hand, she bent her head, and her veil sank down, while the General’s eyes fell upon me, and the transformation was comic.

“Here,” he whispered to my uncle, as I looked from one to the other, and saw the Doctor smiling blandly. “This—this boy—not—Frank Burr’s—”

“Yes,” said my uncle, nodding to me. “Pupil here. Send him into the service by and by.”

“Bless my soul!—Oh dear me!—Here—I—that is—” stammered the General, looking from one to the other, till his eyes lit on Bob Hopley, when he flushed up angrily.

“How dare you, sir! How dare you stand there, with that rabbit and that wretched ferret! Don’t you see that there are ladies present, sir. ’Tention! Put them away. Dress!”

“Here, stop,” said my uncle sharply, as he looked round, “We have interrupted some business.”

“No, no, no, no, my dear boy!—nothing, nothing!” cried the General. “Mere trifle.”

“Trifle, eh?” said my uncle, drawing himself up, and looking the fierce colonel of dragoons. “Frank!”

“Yes, uncle,” I said shrinkingly.

“You are in some scrape.”

“Yes, uncle.”

“What have you been doing?”

“Oh, Charles, pray—pray—” cried my mother.

“Hush,” he said, holding up his hand. “Now, sir, speak out.”

“Really, my dear Charley—” cried the General.

“Allow me, please, sir,” said my uncle; and I caught sight of the Doctor raising his hand and making a sign to my mother, as he placed a chair for her, an act of politeness needed, for she was turning faint. “Now, sir, speak out—the simple facts, please. What have you been doing?”

“Rabbiting with a ferret, uncle, us two, and this gentleman and Bob Hopley came and caught us.”

“Rabbiting—poaching?”

“Yes, yes, yes,” cried the General. “A mere nothing, my dear madam. The boys were certainly on my grounds watching a poaching scoundrel, and I—yes, I thought I’d say a word to the Doctor. Bad company for him, a poacher—eh, my dear Charley?”

“Yes, rather,” said my uncle dryly.

“And now,” said the General, “Doctor Browne here—my neighbour—will tell them not to do so any more—eh, Doctor, eh?”

“Certainly,” said the Doctor. “I’m sure it will not occur again.”

“No, no, of course not,” said the General. “Hopley, you can go. Stop! that ferret belongs to the boys, I think.”

“To you, Frank?” said my uncle.

“No, uncle, it’s his,” I said. “But I was helping to use it.”

“Hah! that’s better,” said my uncle sharply.

“I bought the ferret,” said Mercer, speaking for the first time, “but I don’t want it. I’ll give it to you, Bob.”

“Yes, yes, very wise of you, my lad. There, go now, Hopley,” said the General.

The keeper touched his forehead, and gave a look all round, then winked solemnly at Mercer and me, and left the room.

“Hah!” said the General; “then that little bit of business is settled, Doctor, eh? Just a word or two.”

“A few admonitions, my dear sir,” said the Doctor blandly. “And now, if you will excuse me for a while, I will retire with Mercer here.”

Tom gave me a look so full of appeal, that I ran across to the Doctor.

“Don’t punish him, sir!” I said imploringly. “We were both alike.”

“What’s that, Frank?” said my uncle.

“I asked the Doctor not to punish Tom Mercer, uncle.”

“No, no, no: of course not!” cried the General; “I endorse that appeal. Here, you sir, come to me. Gentlemen don’t do such things as that; and now we all know better, I’ve got some capital fishing in my ponds and lakes, and I shall be happy to see you two at any time. There, shake hands.”

Tom jumped at him, and it was pleasant to see how delighted he looked as he turned and shot a grateful glance at the General before the door closed on him and the Doctor.

Then the two old officers began chatting eagerly together about past times, while I sat by my mother as she held my hand, and I told her the history of my escapade, which was hardly finished when my uncle said,—

“I’m sorry to come down and find you in disgrace, Frank. Not the conduct of one who means to be an officer and a gentleman by and by.”

“No, no: don’t say any more,” said the General. “The boy behaved very well. Liked a bit of sport; all boys do. He shall have a bit of rabbiting now and then.”

“Then I shall say no more,” said my uncle. “Try and be like your name, my boy, and you will find me ready to forgive your scrapes; but you must always be a gentleman.”

“Amen to that,” said the General, rising. “And now, my dear Mrs Burr, I will not say good-bye, butau revoir. Seaborough here tells me you are both going to stay in Hastings for a few days. I shall drive over and see you. Good-bye.”

He showed the same courtly respect to her again, and was rising to go when the Doctor re-entered, and they parted the best of friends.

“No, no, no,” cried the General, as the Doctor was coming out with him, “stay with your visitors. Odd meeting, wasn’t it? Here, you, Frank Burr, come and see me off. Good-day, Doctor, good-day. You and I must be better neighbours.”

“I shall be proud,” said the Doctor, and then I went to the cart with the General, who stood holding my hand at the step, and I could feel a coin therein.

“For you two boys,” he said. “There, good-bye, Frank Burr. You must grow up into a brave gentleman like your father. A thorough soldier, sir. God bless you, my boy! Good-bye.”

He took the reins and got in, the groom left the horse’s head and mounted beside him, and as the cart was driven off, and I stood there with a sovereign in my hand, Bob Hopley, who was in his place behind, gave me another solemn wink, while, after noticing the hired carriage in which my mother and my uncle had driven over from Hastings, I went back into the room and stayed with them, and afterwards went to show them the building and grounds.

An hour after, they were gone, while I hurried off to find Mercer and show him the sovereign.

“Well,” he said, “that’s all right. But, I say, don’t some things turn out rum! What are you going to do with all that money?”

“Half’s yours,” I said.

“Oh, is it? Well, let’s make a bank. It’ll do to pay old Lomax and lots of things.”

Chapter Sixteen.My mother and my uncle came over to see me twice during their stay at Hastings, and during one of the visits my uncle spoke to the Doctor about the drill-master, and, after expressing a wish that I should pay attention to that part of my studies, with fencing, asked if this instructor had been in the foot or horse.“Oh, he was in the cavalry, uncle,” I said.“Good; then, if Doctor Browne does not object, I should like him to give you a few preliminary lessons in riding, so as to get a military seat while you are young, boy.”The Doctor expressed his willingness, but he said with a slight cough,—“Would not a horse be necessary, or a pony?”“Well, yes,” said my uncle dryly, “I think it would, sir; but that difficulty will be got over. Sir Hawkhurst Rye has offered the boy the use of a stout cob. One of the grooms will bring it over two or three times a week; and, if you would allow me, I should like to have a few words with the old sergeant.”The Doctor was perfectly agreeable; and when they were going, I had the pleasure—for it was a pleasure—of taking them down to Lomax’s little, neatly-kept place, where the old sergeant stood ready to draw himself up and salute, with his eyes lighting up, and a proud look of satisfaction in his hard face.My uncle took him aside, and they remained talking together, while my mother walked up and down with me, holding my hand through her arm, and eagerly whispering her hopes—that I would be very careful, that I would not run into any danger with the riding, and, above all, mind not to do anything my uncle would not like.Of course I promised with the full intention of performing, and soon after my uncle marched back with Lomax—they did not seem to walk. Everything had apparently gone off satisfactorily, and after plenty of advice from my uncle, he handed my mother into the carriage, followed and they were driven off.I stood watching the carriage till it was out of sight, and then turned to Lomax, who was standing as upright as if he were on parade, till he caught my eye, and then he gave himself a jerk, thrust one hand into his pocket, and gave the place a slap.“You’re a lucky one,” he said, “to have an uncle like that, sir. Hah! there’s nothing like a soldier.”“How am I lucky?” I said rather sourly, for I was low-spirited from the parting I had just gone through.“Lucky to have a fine old officer like that to want me to make a man of you, and teach you everything you ought to know to become an officer and a gentleman.”“Oh, bother!” I said. “Look here, Lomax; you’re to teach me riding. Can you?”“Can I?” he said, with a little laugh; “wait till the horse comes round, and I’ll show you, my boy.”“I can ride, you know,” I said; “but not military fashion.”“You? you ride, sir?” said the old soldier scornfully. “Rubbish! Don’t talk to me. I know how you ride—like a sack of wool with two legs. Knees up to your chin and your nose parting the horse’s mane all down his neck.”“Oh, nonsense, Lom!”“Fact, sir, fact. Think I don’t know? A civilian rides, sir, like a monkey, bumping himself up and down, and waggling his elbows out like a young chicken learning to fly. There, you be easy, and I’ll teach you how to ride same as I did how to fight.”“But I don’t know that you have taught me how to fight. I haven’t tried yet.”Lomax chuckled.“Wait a bit,” he said. “You don’t want to fight. It’s like being a soldier—a British soldier, sir. He don’t want to fight, and he will not if he can help it. He always hangs back because he knows that he can fight. But when he does—well, I’m sorry for the other side.”“Then you think I could lick Eely if he knocked me about, or big Dicksee?”“No, I don’t think anything about it, my boy. You wait. Don’t fight if you can help it, but if you’re obliged to, recollect all I’ve shown you, and let him have it.”I did not feel in any hurry, and when I talked to Tom Mercer about what I had said to Lomax, he agreed with me that he felt a little nervous about his powers, and said that he should like to try a small boy or two first; but I said no, that would not do; it would be cowardly.“So it would,” said Mercer; “besides, it would let the cat out of the bag, wouldn’t it? Look here, I know: we ought to have a quiet set to up in the loft some day.”“But that would only be boxing,” I said.“Why not make a fight of it?” suggested Mercer.“But we couldn’t fight without there was a genuine quarrel.”“Let’s quarrel, then.”“What about?”“Oh, I don’t know. Anything. You call me a fool, and I’ll hit you, and then you go at me again, and we should know then what we could do.”“Get out!” I said. “I shan’t call you a fool; but if I did, you wouldn’t be such a beast as to hit me, and if you did, I should be so sorry that I shouldn’t hit you again. That wouldn’t do.”Tom Mercer scratched his head.“No,” he said dryly, “that wouldn’t do. It seems precious rum, though.”“What does?”“That I shouldn’t care to hit you. I feel as if I couldn’t hit a fellow who saved my life.”“Look here,” I said angrily, “you’re always trying to bring up that stupid nonsense about the holding you up on the penstock. If you do it again, I will hit you.”“Boo! Not you. You’re afraid,” cried Mercer derisively. “Who pulled the chap out of the water when he was half drowned, and saved him? Who—”I clapped my hand over his mouth.“Won’t do, Tom,” I said. “It’s all sham. We can’t fight. I daresay old Lom’s right, though.”“What do you mean?”“That we shall be able to knock Eely and Dicksee into the middle of next week.”“But it seems to me as if they must feel that we have been learning, or else they would have been sure to have done something before now.”“Never mind,” I said, “let’s wait. We don’t want to fight, as Lom says, but if we’re obliged to, we’ve got to do it well.”The occasion for trying our ability did not come off, though it was very near it several times; but as I grew more confident, the less I felt disposed to try, and Mercer always confessed it was the same with him, though the cock of the school and his miserable toady, Dicksee often led us a sad life.One morning, soon after the last visit of Uncle Seaborough, Lomax came to the schoolroom door, just as Mr Hasnip was giving me a terrible bullying about the results of a problem in algebra, on to which he had hurried me before I had more than the faintest idea of the meaning of the rules I had been struggling through.I suppose I was very stupid, but it was terribly confusing to me for the most part. I grasped very well the fact that a plus quantity killed a minus quantity if they were of equal value, and that a little figure two by the side of a letter meant its square, and I somehow blundered through some simple equations, but when Mr Hasnip lit a scholastic fire under me, and began to force on bigger mathematical flowers from my unhappy soil in the Doctor’s scholastic hothouse, I began to feel as if I were blighted, and as if quadratic equations were instruments of torture to destroy boys’ brains.On that particular morning, I was, what fat Dicksee called, “catching it,” and I was listening gloomily to my teacher’s attempts at being witty at my expense.“How a boy can be so stupid,” he said, “is more than I can grasp. It is perfect child’s play, and yet you have gone on getting the problem into a hopeless tangle—a ridiculous tangle. You have made a surd perfectly absurd, and—”“Mr Hasnip!” came from the other end of the great room. Mr Hasnip looked up.“The drill-master is here. The horse has arrived for Burr junior’s riding lesson. Can you excuse him?”“Certainly, sir,” and Mr Hasnip looked at me, showing his teeth in a hungry kind of smile, as if a nice morsel were being snatched from him, and I stood with my heart beating, and the warm blood tingling in my cheeks, conscious that all the boys were looking at me.“Here, take your book, Burr junior,” said my tutor. “Very glad to go, I daresay. Now aren’t you?”I looked up at him, but made no reply.“Do you hear me, sir?”“Yes, sir.”“I said, ‘Aren’t you glad to go?’”“Yes, sir.”“Of course. There, be off. You’ll never learn anything. You are the stupidest boy I ever taught.”My cheeks burned, and as I turned to go, there was fat Dicksee grinning at me in so provoking a way, that if we had been alone, I should in my vexation have tried one of Lomax’s blows upon his round, smooth face. But as it was, I went back to my place, where Mercer was seated, with his hands clasped and thrust down between his knees, his back up, and his head down over his book, apparently grinding up his Euclid, upon which he kept his eyes fixed.“Oh ho!” he whispered; “here you are. Without exception, sir, the stupidest boy I ever taught.”“I’ll punch your head by and by, Tom, if you’re not quiet,” I said.“Who made the surd absurd?”“Did you hear what I said?”“Yes. Oh, you lucky beggar! Who are you, I should like to know, to be having your riding lessons?”“Less talking there, Burr junior.”This from Mr Rebble, and I went out, passing close to Burr major, who looked me up and down contemptuously, as he took out his watch, and said to the nearest boy,—“Rank favouritism! if there’s much more of it, I shall leave the school.”But I forgot all this directly, as I stepped out, where I found Lomax standing up as stiff as a ramrod, and with a walking cane thrust under his arms and behind his back, trussing him like a chicken, so as to throw out his chest.He saluted me in military fashion.“Mornin’, sir. Your trooper’s waiting. Looks a nice, clever little fellow.”“Trooper?” I faltered in a disappointed tone. “What do you mean? I thought it was the horse come.”“So it is.”“But trooper?”“Of course. Well, charger, then. Officers’ horses are chargers; men’s horses, troopers.”“Oh!” I cried, brightening up, but with a feeling of nervousness and excitement making my heart beat more heavily still. “Where is it?”“Paddock!” said Lomax shortly, and without the slightest disposition to be conversational. In fact, he became more military every moment, and marched along by me, delivering cuts at nothing with his cane, as if he were angry with the air.Then all at once he glanced at me, looking me up and down.“Humph! No straps to your overalls,” he said snappishly.“Overalls?”“Well, trousers, sir. They’ll be crawling all up your legs. Get some buttons put on by next time.”He turned into the field devoted to the Doctor’s cows and to the junior boys’ football, and there I saw the General’s groom holding a fiery, untamed-looking steed, as it seemed to me, arching its neck and snorting, as it stood champing its bit till the white foam flew from its mouth.The groom touched his hat to me as we came up.“Master’s compliments, sir, and as he wants me,” he said, “would you mind riding the cob back to the house?”“Oh yes, of course,” I said, glancing at the fierce-looking animal, and mentally asking myself whether he would allow me to ride him home. “Is—is he quiet?”“Quiet, sir! why, he’s like a lamb. Bit playful sometimes, but no more vice in him than there is in an oyster. Mornin’, sir.”The man touched his hat and went off, leaving Lomax and me with the horse, which looked enormous then.Lomax strode round the animal, examining it, and making remarks as he went on.“Very well groomed,” he said. “Saw your old friend Magglin before breakfast. Good legs. Like to get taken on again, he says. Tail wants topping—too long. Lucky for him he didn’t get before the magistrates. Doctor won’t have him again. Very nice little nag, but too small for service. I told him that all he was fit for was to enlist; some sharp drill-sergeant might knock him into shape in time. He’s no use as he is. Now, then, ready?”“Yes,” I said shrinkingly, “I suppose so.”“That’s right,” cried Lomax, and, lifting up the flap of the saddle, he busied himself, as I supposed, tightening the girths, but all at once they dropped to the ground, and, with the rein over his arm, Lomax lifted off the saddle and placed it upon the hedge.“Now then,” he cried, “come along and I’ll give you a leg up.”“But you’ve taken the saddle off.”“Of course I have. I’m going to teach you how to ride.”“Without a saddle or stirrups?”“Of course. A man wants to feel at home on a horses, so does a boy. Now then, I’ll give you a leg up.”I was like wax in his hands. On lifting one leg as he bade me, the next moment I was sent flying, to come down on the horse’s back astride, but so much over to the right that I had to fling myself forward and clutch the mane.“Bravo! Well done!” cried Lomax sarcastically.“I’m all right now,” I cried.“All right! Here, come down, sir. Do you know what would have happened if that had been some horses?”“No,” I said, dismounting clumsily.“Well, then, I’ll tell you. They’d either have sent you flying over their heads, or bolted.”“I’m very sorry,” I faltered.“Sorry! I should think you are. Got up like a tailor, sir, and you’ve come down like one. Bah! It’s horrible.”“Well, but you’ve got to teach me better,” I cried.“True. Good lad. So I have. Now then, give me your leg. That’s it. Steady. Up you go.”“That’s better,” I cried, settling myself into my place.“Better! No, it isn’t. It’s not so bad only, sir. Now, then, sit up so that a line dropped from your temple would go down by your heel. Better. Get your fork well open.”“What?”“Sit close down on the horse’s back, then. No, no, you don’t want to scratch your ear.”“Well, I know, that,” I said, laughing.“Then what did you cock up your knee that way for? Let your legs hang down. That’s better. Toes up and heels well down.”“What for, Lomax?”“Don’t ask questions. Do as I tell you. Well, there you’re right. Toes up so that they just rest in the stirrups.”“But I haven’t got any stirrups.”“Then act as if you had.”“But why don’t you let me have some?”“Silence in the ranks, sir. Now then, keep your balance. Advance at a walk.”The horse started.“Halt!” shouted Lomax, and the horse pulled up so short that I went forward.“What are you doing, sir? You don’t want to look into the horse’s ears.”“I wasn’t trying to,” I said sharply.“What were you going to do, then?—whisper to him to stop?”“I say, don’t tease me, Lom,” I said appealingly; “you know I couldn’t help it.”“Right, my lad, I know. But ’tention; this won’t do. I’ve got to teach you to ride with a good military seat, and we’re not friends now. You’re a private, and I’m your riding-master.”“Yes, but one minute, Lom—”“Sergeant Lomax, sir.”“Yes, Sergeant Lomax. I say, do let me have a saddle.”“What for, sir?”“It’s so much more comfortable.”“A soldier, sir, is a man who scorns comfort and takes things as they come. You’ve got to learn to ride.”“Of course. Then where’s the saddle?”“When you can ride well without a saddle, you shall have one. Now: no more talking. ’Tention! By your right—March!”The horse started off without my influencing him in the slightest degree, but before we had got ten yards, the sergeant’s stern “Halt!” rang out again, and the horse stopped as suddenly as before, but I was aware of it this time, and gripped him hard with my knees.“Good. Well done. But you went too far forward. Take a good hold with your knees. And that’s not the way to hold your reins. Look here, one rein—no, no, not the curb—the snaffle—that’s it now—one rein outside your little finger and one in, and the rest of the rein through your hand, between your forefinger and thumb. Good. Now pick up the curb rein off your horse’s neck and let it rest lightly in your hand.”“What for?”“Don’t ask questions. Because it’s right. Ready for use if the horse pulls too much or bolts.”“Is he likely to pull too much or bolt?”“Don’t ask questions. No, he isn’t. Soldiers generally ride on the curb, but a horse like this don’t want it. He has been ridden with cavalry, too. Now then, once more at a walk—March!”The horse started again, with his soft, warm back feeling terribly slippery, but I sat quite stiffly upright, and he walked straight up the paddock, and seemed as if he were going to leap the hedge, making me wonder which side I should fall; but just as we were close up, the sergeant’s voice rang out,—“Right wheel!”The horse turned to the right instantly, and had gone a dozen yards when the sergeant shouted again, “Right wheel!” and directly after, “Forward!” with the result that we were now facing him, and went slowly down the paddock, till the sergeant shouted, “Halt!” just as I was beginning to feel a little more comfortable, and not as if I must slide off right or left at any moment.“Well, that’s pretty fair, sir,” cried Lomax, as the horse stopped short. “Chest out more, back hollow. Keep your knees well in. Capital horse for you to learn on. Knows all his work. Well, we won’t waste time walking. You shall do that now at a trot.”“Without a sad—”“’Tention. No talking in the ranks.”The horse didn’t want to be turned, but came round quickly, almost on a pivot, very much disturbing my equilibrium again; but by gripping tightly with my legs I managed to hold on, and looked anxiously at Lomax.“Ah,” he shouted, “eyes straight for the horse’s ears! Now then, you will sit firm, elbows close to your sides. ’Tention! The squadron will advance at a walk. Forward—tr–r–r–ot!”The horse had only walked a few paces when the second order came, and he broke directly into a trot, which sent me bumping up and down, now a little inclined to the right, then more to the left, then my balance was gone. I made a desperate effort to save myself, and then, perfectly certain that the horse would trample me to death beneath his feet, down I went on my back, and began to scramble up, with my mount stock still beside me.“Not hurt a bit!” cried Lomax, running up and handing me my cap, which had come off.“No,” I said, beginning to feel myself all over; “I don’t think anything is broken.”“And I’m sure there isn’t,” cried Lomax. “Now then, I’ll give you a leg up.”“Am I to get up again—now?” I faltered.“Without you want to say you haven’t pluck enough to learn to ride.”“No,” I said; “I haven’t pluck enough to say that.”“Not you. Up you go. There. Now that is better. Stick on this time.”“I could if I had stirrups,” I said, “and a saddle.”“No, you couldn’t, sir, so don’t talk nonsense. You’ve just learnt the finest thing a lad who wants to ride can learn—the thing that gives him plenty of confidence.”“What’s that?” I asked; “that it’s very hard to keep on?”“No; that it’s very easy to come off and roll on the ground without hurting yourself a bit. Off you go again. Forward—trot!”The horse snorted and went on, shaking me almost to pieces, and sometimes I was nearly off on one side, sometimes nearly off on the other, but I kept on.“Right wheel!” came from the other end of the field, then, “Right wheel!” again. “Forward!” and the horse was taking me—for I had nothing whatever to do with him—back toward where the sergeant stood.I kept my balance pretty well, but my trousers were running up my legs, and I felt as if everything belonging to me was shaken up. Then once more my balance was gone, and off I went on to my back, and over and over a few yards from the sergeant, who ran up, the horse once more stopping short by my side.“Bravo!” cried Lomax, as I sat up. “You’re getting on.”“I thought I was getting off,” I said dolefully.“Rubbish, sir; improving fast. Here, up with you again. It’s all strange to you at first, but you’ve got to grow to that horse’s back, till it’s like one animal—horse and man. You’ve got to learn to grip him till you feel as if you can’t tumble off.”“But I never shall,” I cried.“Don’t tell me. I’ll make you. Now then; there you are. Now you just trot down to the bottom and back without coming off like a sack of shavings. Never mind the reins. Let him have his head, and you put all your sperrit into your knees. Keep your position and preserve your balance.”“I know I shall fall again soon.”“Very well, then, fall. But I don’t believe you will. Now then, once more.”He gave the order, the horse walked a few steps, then at the second order broke into a trot, and, to my utter astonishment, as I drove my knees into the warm soft sides, away we went, wheeled to the right, then to the right again, and trotted back to the sergeant, who shouted,—“Halt! Bravo! There, what did I say? Make much of your horse.”The lesson was kept on for fully two hours, and then, to make up, I suppose, for a good deal of bullying, my instructor was loud in his praise, and, opening the gate after replacing the saddle, he signed to me to mount, but I tried and could not, for my legs felt stiff and stretched, my back ached, and there was a peculiar sensation of soreness about the knees.“Shall I trot him back?” said Lomax.“If you would, please,” I said. “I do feel so stiff.”“I will, my lad. To-morrow morning same time; and I’ll get some of that stiffness out of you.”“Thank you,” I said rather dolefully; and then I could not help watching the old dragoon with a feeling of envy as he placed one foot in the stirrup, drew himself up till he stood upright, then deliberately threw the right leg over the horse’s back, slowly dropped into his place as upright as a dart, and trotted steadily out into the road and away out of sight, while, after closing the gate, I began to retrace my steps in the direction of the school, just as the boys came trooping out for their regular run till the room was ventilated, and the cloth laid for dinner.“Oh, I say, it’s rank favouritism!” came from the middle of a group. “I shall speak to the Doctor about it.”Some one answered this, but I did not hear the words, and I hobbled to the door, and went up to my room, wondering how any one could be envious of the sensations I was experiencing then.

My mother and my uncle came over to see me twice during their stay at Hastings, and during one of the visits my uncle spoke to the Doctor about the drill-master, and, after expressing a wish that I should pay attention to that part of my studies, with fencing, asked if this instructor had been in the foot or horse.

“Oh, he was in the cavalry, uncle,” I said.

“Good; then, if Doctor Browne does not object, I should like him to give you a few preliminary lessons in riding, so as to get a military seat while you are young, boy.”

The Doctor expressed his willingness, but he said with a slight cough,—

“Would not a horse be necessary, or a pony?”

“Well, yes,” said my uncle dryly, “I think it would, sir; but that difficulty will be got over. Sir Hawkhurst Rye has offered the boy the use of a stout cob. One of the grooms will bring it over two or three times a week; and, if you would allow me, I should like to have a few words with the old sergeant.”

The Doctor was perfectly agreeable; and when they were going, I had the pleasure—for it was a pleasure—of taking them down to Lomax’s little, neatly-kept place, where the old sergeant stood ready to draw himself up and salute, with his eyes lighting up, and a proud look of satisfaction in his hard face.

My uncle took him aside, and they remained talking together, while my mother walked up and down with me, holding my hand through her arm, and eagerly whispering her hopes—that I would be very careful, that I would not run into any danger with the riding, and, above all, mind not to do anything my uncle would not like.

Of course I promised with the full intention of performing, and soon after my uncle marched back with Lomax—they did not seem to walk. Everything had apparently gone off satisfactorily, and after plenty of advice from my uncle, he handed my mother into the carriage, followed and they were driven off.

I stood watching the carriage till it was out of sight, and then turned to Lomax, who was standing as upright as if he were on parade, till he caught my eye, and then he gave himself a jerk, thrust one hand into his pocket, and gave the place a slap.

“You’re a lucky one,” he said, “to have an uncle like that, sir. Hah! there’s nothing like a soldier.”

“How am I lucky?” I said rather sourly, for I was low-spirited from the parting I had just gone through.

“Lucky to have a fine old officer like that to want me to make a man of you, and teach you everything you ought to know to become an officer and a gentleman.”

“Oh, bother!” I said. “Look here, Lomax; you’re to teach me riding. Can you?”

“Can I?” he said, with a little laugh; “wait till the horse comes round, and I’ll show you, my boy.”

“I can ride, you know,” I said; “but not military fashion.”

“You? you ride, sir?” said the old soldier scornfully. “Rubbish! Don’t talk to me. I know how you ride—like a sack of wool with two legs. Knees up to your chin and your nose parting the horse’s mane all down his neck.”

“Oh, nonsense, Lom!”

“Fact, sir, fact. Think I don’t know? A civilian rides, sir, like a monkey, bumping himself up and down, and waggling his elbows out like a young chicken learning to fly. There, you be easy, and I’ll teach you how to ride same as I did how to fight.”

“But I don’t know that you have taught me how to fight. I haven’t tried yet.”

Lomax chuckled.

“Wait a bit,” he said. “You don’t want to fight. It’s like being a soldier—a British soldier, sir. He don’t want to fight, and he will not if he can help it. He always hangs back because he knows that he can fight. But when he does—well, I’m sorry for the other side.”

“Then you think I could lick Eely if he knocked me about, or big Dicksee?”

“No, I don’t think anything about it, my boy. You wait. Don’t fight if you can help it, but if you’re obliged to, recollect all I’ve shown you, and let him have it.”

I did not feel in any hurry, and when I talked to Tom Mercer about what I had said to Lomax, he agreed with me that he felt a little nervous about his powers, and said that he should like to try a small boy or two first; but I said no, that would not do; it would be cowardly.

“So it would,” said Mercer; “besides, it would let the cat out of the bag, wouldn’t it? Look here, I know: we ought to have a quiet set to up in the loft some day.”

“But that would only be boxing,” I said.

“Why not make a fight of it?” suggested Mercer.

“But we couldn’t fight without there was a genuine quarrel.”

“Let’s quarrel, then.”

“What about?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Anything. You call me a fool, and I’ll hit you, and then you go at me again, and we should know then what we could do.”

“Get out!” I said. “I shan’t call you a fool; but if I did, you wouldn’t be such a beast as to hit me, and if you did, I should be so sorry that I shouldn’t hit you again. That wouldn’t do.”

Tom Mercer scratched his head.

“No,” he said dryly, “that wouldn’t do. It seems precious rum, though.”

“What does?”

“That I shouldn’t care to hit you. I feel as if I couldn’t hit a fellow who saved my life.”

“Look here,” I said angrily, “you’re always trying to bring up that stupid nonsense about the holding you up on the penstock. If you do it again, I will hit you.”

“Boo! Not you. You’re afraid,” cried Mercer derisively. “Who pulled the chap out of the water when he was half drowned, and saved him? Who—”

I clapped my hand over his mouth.

“Won’t do, Tom,” I said. “It’s all sham. We can’t fight. I daresay old Lom’s right, though.”

“What do you mean?”

“That we shall be able to knock Eely and Dicksee into the middle of next week.”

“But it seems to me as if they must feel that we have been learning, or else they would have been sure to have done something before now.”

“Never mind,” I said, “let’s wait. We don’t want to fight, as Lom says, but if we’re obliged to, we’ve got to do it well.”

The occasion for trying our ability did not come off, though it was very near it several times; but as I grew more confident, the less I felt disposed to try, and Mercer always confessed it was the same with him, though the cock of the school and his miserable toady, Dicksee often led us a sad life.

One morning, soon after the last visit of Uncle Seaborough, Lomax came to the schoolroom door, just as Mr Hasnip was giving me a terrible bullying about the results of a problem in algebra, on to which he had hurried me before I had more than the faintest idea of the meaning of the rules I had been struggling through.

I suppose I was very stupid, but it was terribly confusing to me for the most part. I grasped very well the fact that a plus quantity killed a minus quantity if they were of equal value, and that a little figure two by the side of a letter meant its square, and I somehow blundered through some simple equations, but when Mr Hasnip lit a scholastic fire under me, and began to force on bigger mathematical flowers from my unhappy soil in the Doctor’s scholastic hothouse, I began to feel as if I were blighted, and as if quadratic equations were instruments of torture to destroy boys’ brains.

On that particular morning, I was, what fat Dicksee called, “catching it,” and I was listening gloomily to my teacher’s attempts at being witty at my expense.

“How a boy can be so stupid,” he said, “is more than I can grasp. It is perfect child’s play, and yet you have gone on getting the problem into a hopeless tangle—a ridiculous tangle. You have made a surd perfectly absurd, and—”

“Mr Hasnip!” came from the other end of the great room. Mr Hasnip looked up.

“The drill-master is here. The horse has arrived for Burr junior’s riding lesson. Can you excuse him?”

“Certainly, sir,” and Mr Hasnip looked at me, showing his teeth in a hungry kind of smile, as if a nice morsel were being snatched from him, and I stood with my heart beating, and the warm blood tingling in my cheeks, conscious that all the boys were looking at me.

“Here, take your book, Burr junior,” said my tutor. “Very glad to go, I daresay. Now aren’t you?”

I looked up at him, but made no reply.

“Do you hear me, sir?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I said, ‘Aren’t you glad to go?’”

“Yes, sir.”

“Of course. There, be off. You’ll never learn anything. You are the stupidest boy I ever taught.”

My cheeks burned, and as I turned to go, there was fat Dicksee grinning at me in so provoking a way, that if we had been alone, I should in my vexation have tried one of Lomax’s blows upon his round, smooth face. But as it was, I went back to my place, where Mercer was seated, with his hands clasped and thrust down between his knees, his back up, and his head down over his book, apparently grinding up his Euclid, upon which he kept his eyes fixed.

“Oh ho!” he whispered; “here you are. Without exception, sir, the stupidest boy I ever taught.”

“I’ll punch your head by and by, Tom, if you’re not quiet,” I said.

“Who made the surd absurd?”

“Did you hear what I said?”

“Yes. Oh, you lucky beggar! Who are you, I should like to know, to be having your riding lessons?”

“Less talking there, Burr junior.”

This from Mr Rebble, and I went out, passing close to Burr major, who looked me up and down contemptuously, as he took out his watch, and said to the nearest boy,—

“Rank favouritism! if there’s much more of it, I shall leave the school.”

But I forgot all this directly, as I stepped out, where I found Lomax standing up as stiff as a ramrod, and with a walking cane thrust under his arms and behind his back, trussing him like a chicken, so as to throw out his chest.

He saluted me in military fashion.

“Mornin’, sir. Your trooper’s waiting. Looks a nice, clever little fellow.”

“Trooper?” I faltered in a disappointed tone. “What do you mean? I thought it was the horse come.”

“So it is.”

“But trooper?”

“Of course. Well, charger, then. Officers’ horses are chargers; men’s horses, troopers.”

“Oh!” I cried, brightening up, but with a feeling of nervousness and excitement making my heart beat more heavily still. “Where is it?”

“Paddock!” said Lomax shortly, and without the slightest disposition to be conversational. In fact, he became more military every moment, and marched along by me, delivering cuts at nothing with his cane, as if he were angry with the air.

Then all at once he glanced at me, looking me up and down.

“Humph! No straps to your overalls,” he said snappishly.

“Overalls?”

“Well, trousers, sir. They’ll be crawling all up your legs. Get some buttons put on by next time.”

He turned into the field devoted to the Doctor’s cows and to the junior boys’ football, and there I saw the General’s groom holding a fiery, untamed-looking steed, as it seemed to me, arching its neck and snorting, as it stood champing its bit till the white foam flew from its mouth.

The groom touched his hat to me as we came up.

“Master’s compliments, sir, and as he wants me,” he said, “would you mind riding the cob back to the house?”

“Oh yes, of course,” I said, glancing at the fierce-looking animal, and mentally asking myself whether he would allow me to ride him home. “Is—is he quiet?”

“Quiet, sir! why, he’s like a lamb. Bit playful sometimes, but no more vice in him than there is in an oyster. Mornin’, sir.”

The man touched his hat and went off, leaving Lomax and me with the horse, which looked enormous then.

Lomax strode round the animal, examining it, and making remarks as he went on.

“Very well groomed,” he said. “Saw your old friend Magglin before breakfast. Good legs. Like to get taken on again, he says. Tail wants topping—too long. Lucky for him he didn’t get before the magistrates. Doctor won’t have him again. Very nice little nag, but too small for service. I told him that all he was fit for was to enlist; some sharp drill-sergeant might knock him into shape in time. He’s no use as he is. Now, then, ready?”

“Yes,” I said shrinkingly, “I suppose so.”

“That’s right,” cried Lomax, and, lifting up the flap of the saddle, he busied himself, as I supposed, tightening the girths, but all at once they dropped to the ground, and, with the rein over his arm, Lomax lifted off the saddle and placed it upon the hedge.

“Now then,” he cried, “come along and I’ll give you a leg up.”

“But you’ve taken the saddle off.”

“Of course I have. I’m going to teach you how to ride.”

“Without a saddle or stirrups?”

“Of course. A man wants to feel at home on a horses, so does a boy. Now then, I’ll give you a leg up.”

I was like wax in his hands. On lifting one leg as he bade me, the next moment I was sent flying, to come down on the horse’s back astride, but so much over to the right that I had to fling myself forward and clutch the mane.

“Bravo! Well done!” cried Lomax sarcastically.

“I’m all right now,” I cried.

“All right! Here, come down, sir. Do you know what would have happened if that had been some horses?”

“No,” I said, dismounting clumsily.

“Well, then, I’ll tell you. They’d either have sent you flying over their heads, or bolted.”

“I’m very sorry,” I faltered.

“Sorry! I should think you are. Got up like a tailor, sir, and you’ve come down like one. Bah! It’s horrible.”

“Well, but you’ve got to teach me better,” I cried.

“True. Good lad. So I have. Now then, give me your leg. That’s it. Steady. Up you go.”

“That’s better,” I cried, settling myself into my place.

“Better! No, it isn’t. It’s not so bad only, sir. Now, then, sit up so that a line dropped from your temple would go down by your heel. Better. Get your fork well open.”

“What?”

“Sit close down on the horse’s back, then. No, no, you don’t want to scratch your ear.”

“Well, I know, that,” I said, laughing.

“Then what did you cock up your knee that way for? Let your legs hang down. That’s better. Toes up and heels well down.”

“What for, Lomax?”

“Don’t ask questions. Do as I tell you. Well, there you’re right. Toes up so that they just rest in the stirrups.”

“But I haven’t got any stirrups.”

“Then act as if you had.”

“But why don’t you let me have some?”

“Silence in the ranks, sir. Now then, keep your balance. Advance at a walk.”

The horse started.

“Halt!” shouted Lomax, and the horse pulled up so short that I went forward.

“What are you doing, sir? You don’t want to look into the horse’s ears.”

“I wasn’t trying to,” I said sharply.

“What were you going to do, then?—whisper to him to stop?”

“I say, don’t tease me, Lom,” I said appealingly; “you know I couldn’t help it.”

“Right, my lad, I know. But ’tention; this won’t do. I’ve got to teach you to ride with a good military seat, and we’re not friends now. You’re a private, and I’m your riding-master.”

“Yes, but one minute, Lom—”

“Sergeant Lomax, sir.”

“Yes, Sergeant Lomax. I say, do let me have a saddle.”

“What for, sir?”

“It’s so much more comfortable.”

“A soldier, sir, is a man who scorns comfort and takes things as they come. You’ve got to learn to ride.”

“Of course. Then where’s the saddle?”

“When you can ride well without a saddle, you shall have one. Now: no more talking. ’Tention! By your right—March!”

The horse started off without my influencing him in the slightest degree, but before we had got ten yards, the sergeant’s stern “Halt!” rang out again, and the horse stopped as suddenly as before, but I was aware of it this time, and gripped him hard with my knees.

“Good. Well done. But you went too far forward. Take a good hold with your knees. And that’s not the way to hold your reins. Look here, one rein—no, no, not the curb—the snaffle—that’s it now—one rein outside your little finger and one in, and the rest of the rein through your hand, between your forefinger and thumb. Good. Now pick up the curb rein off your horse’s neck and let it rest lightly in your hand.”

“What for?”

“Don’t ask questions. Because it’s right. Ready for use if the horse pulls too much or bolts.”

“Is he likely to pull too much or bolt?”

“Don’t ask questions. No, he isn’t. Soldiers generally ride on the curb, but a horse like this don’t want it. He has been ridden with cavalry, too. Now then, once more at a walk—March!”

The horse started again, with his soft, warm back feeling terribly slippery, but I sat quite stiffly upright, and he walked straight up the paddock, and seemed as if he were going to leap the hedge, making me wonder which side I should fall; but just as we were close up, the sergeant’s voice rang out,—

“Right wheel!”

The horse turned to the right instantly, and had gone a dozen yards when the sergeant shouted again, “Right wheel!” and directly after, “Forward!” with the result that we were now facing him, and went slowly down the paddock, till the sergeant shouted, “Halt!” just as I was beginning to feel a little more comfortable, and not as if I must slide off right or left at any moment.

“Well, that’s pretty fair, sir,” cried Lomax, as the horse stopped short. “Chest out more, back hollow. Keep your knees well in. Capital horse for you to learn on. Knows all his work. Well, we won’t waste time walking. You shall do that now at a trot.”

“Without a sad—”

“’Tention. No talking in the ranks.”

The horse didn’t want to be turned, but came round quickly, almost on a pivot, very much disturbing my equilibrium again; but by gripping tightly with my legs I managed to hold on, and looked anxiously at Lomax.

“Ah,” he shouted, “eyes straight for the horse’s ears! Now then, you will sit firm, elbows close to your sides. ’Tention! The squadron will advance at a walk. Forward—tr–r–r–ot!”

The horse had only walked a few paces when the second order came, and he broke directly into a trot, which sent me bumping up and down, now a little inclined to the right, then more to the left, then my balance was gone. I made a desperate effort to save myself, and then, perfectly certain that the horse would trample me to death beneath his feet, down I went on my back, and began to scramble up, with my mount stock still beside me.

“Not hurt a bit!” cried Lomax, running up and handing me my cap, which had come off.

“No,” I said, beginning to feel myself all over; “I don’t think anything is broken.”

“And I’m sure there isn’t,” cried Lomax. “Now then, I’ll give you a leg up.”

“Am I to get up again—now?” I faltered.

“Without you want to say you haven’t pluck enough to learn to ride.”

“No,” I said; “I haven’t pluck enough to say that.”

“Not you. Up you go. There. Now that is better. Stick on this time.”

“I could if I had stirrups,” I said, “and a saddle.”

“No, you couldn’t, sir, so don’t talk nonsense. You’ve just learnt the finest thing a lad who wants to ride can learn—the thing that gives him plenty of confidence.”

“What’s that?” I asked; “that it’s very hard to keep on?”

“No; that it’s very easy to come off and roll on the ground without hurting yourself a bit. Off you go again. Forward—trot!”

The horse snorted and went on, shaking me almost to pieces, and sometimes I was nearly off on one side, sometimes nearly off on the other, but I kept on.

“Right wheel!” came from the other end of the field, then, “Right wheel!” again. “Forward!” and the horse was taking me—for I had nothing whatever to do with him—back toward where the sergeant stood.

I kept my balance pretty well, but my trousers were running up my legs, and I felt as if everything belonging to me was shaken up. Then once more my balance was gone, and off I went on to my back, and over and over a few yards from the sergeant, who ran up, the horse once more stopping short by my side.

“Bravo!” cried Lomax, as I sat up. “You’re getting on.”

“I thought I was getting off,” I said dolefully.

“Rubbish, sir; improving fast. Here, up with you again. It’s all strange to you at first, but you’ve got to grow to that horse’s back, till it’s like one animal—horse and man. You’ve got to learn to grip him till you feel as if you can’t tumble off.”

“But I never shall,” I cried.

“Don’t tell me. I’ll make you. Now then; there you are. Now you just trot down to the bottom and back without coming off like a sack of shavings. Never mind the reins. Let him have his head, and you put all your sperrit into your knees. Keep your position and preserve your balance.”

“I know I shall fall again soon.”

“Very well, then, fall. But I don’t believe you will. Now then, once more.”

He gave the order, the horse walked a few steps, then at the second order broke into a trot, and, to my utter astonishment, as I drove my knees into the warm soft sides, away we went, wheeled to the right, then to the right again, and trotted back to the sergeant, who shouted,—

“Halt! Bravo! There, what did I say? Make much of your horse.”

The lesson was kept on for fully two hours, and then, to make up, I suppose, for a good deal of bullying, my instructor was loud in his praise, and, opening the gate after replacing the saddle, he signed to me to mount, but I tried and could not, for my legs felt stiff and stretched, my back ached, and there was a peculiar sensation of soreness about the knees.

“Shall I trot him back?” said Lomax.

“If you would, please,” I said. “I do feel so stiff.”

“I will, my lad. To-morrow morning same time; and I’ll get some of that stiffness out of you.”

“Thank you,” I said rather dolefully; and then I could not help watching the old dragoon with a feeling of envy as he placed one foot in the stirrup, drew himself up till he stood upright, then deliberately threw the right leg over the horse’s back, slowly dropped into his place as upright as a dart, and trotted steadily out into the road and away out of sight, while, after closing the gate, I began to retrace my steps in the direction of the school, just as the boys came trooping out for their regular run till the room was ventilated, and the cloth laid for dinner.

“Oh, I say, it’s rank favouritism!” came from the middle of a group. “I shall speak to the Doctor about it.”

Some one answered this, but I did not hear the words, and I hobbled to the door, and went up to my room, wondering how any one could be envious of the sensations I was experiencing then.

Chapter Seventeen.“How are your sore knees?” said Mercer one morning soon after my long first lesson in riding.“Oh, dreadful!” I cried. “They get a little better, and then the riding makes them bad again.”“But why don’t he let you have a saddle?”“He does now,” I said—“that is, he did yesterday; but it’s worse riding on a saddle, it’s so slippery, and he will not let me have any stirrups.”“When are you going again?”“To-day, I suppose. The Doctor says I’m to get on as fast as possible, and make up with my other studies afterwards.”“Wish I was going to learn to ride.”“You wouldn’t much like it if you had to,” I replied. “Oh, I don’t know. It looks very nice to see you going along. But, I say, it does make Burr major so wild. I heard him tell Dicksee he should make his father send him a horse, and Dicksee said he ought to, and I laughed.”“Did he hear you?”“Yes, and gave me such a clip on the head with a cricket stump. Feel here.”I placed my hand where he suggested, and there was a good-sized lump.“What a shame!” I cried indignantly. “Didn’t you hit him again?”“No; I only put it down. We’re going to pay it all back some day.”“Yes; but when?” I cried.Mercer shook his head.“I say,” he continued, “I saw old Magglin this morning before breakfast.”“What was he doing here?”“Dunno. Wanted to see me, I suppose, and borrow a shilling.”“Did you lend him one?”“Yes; I felt obliged to.”Just then Burr major came by us, and looked us both over sharply.“Haven’t you two got any lessons to get ready?” he said.“Yes,” I replied.“Then go in and get them ready before I report you both to Mr Hasnip. Do you hear?”“Yes,” I said; “but I’m going to have my riding lesson.”“Your riding lesson!” he sneered; “you’re always going to have your riding lesson. I never saw such a school as it’s getting to be. It’s shameful! I shall go and ask Mr Hasnip if we boys are to be kept always at work, while you and Tom Mercer are idling about and enjoying yourselves.”“All right,” said Mercer oracularly, in a whisper to me, as Burr major walked off importantly for a few yards, attended by his satellites, and then stopped, drew out his watch with a flourish, looked at it, and put it back with an air that he intended to be graceful.“Look here, you, Tom Mercer—do you hear, Jollop? You’re not going to have riding lessons. I give you five minutes to get back to your work, and if you are not there then—you’ll see.”“All right,” said Mercer again; and then, as Burr major was out of hearing, “Any one would think he was the Doctor. Oh, I should like to—” he continued, grinding his teeth. “Think we could, Frank?”“I don’t know,” I said hesitatingly; “but when he talks like that, it makes me feel horribly mad, and as if I should like to try.”“Never mind. Wait a bit; the revolution isn’t ripe yet,” said Mercer darkly. “Wish I’d got a watch like that.”I was very angry, but my companion’s sudden change from thoughts of revenge to covetousness seemed exceedingly droll.“What are you laughing at?” he said.“At you about the watch.”“Well, I can’t help it, Frank. That watch seems always staring at me with its round white face, and holding out its hands to me. I dream of it of a night, and I’m always longing for it of a day. You can’t tell how bad it makes me feel sometimes.”“You shouldn’t think about it, Tom.”“I can’t help it. I don’t want to, but the thoughts will come, dreadfully. I say,” he whispered darkly, “I don’t wonder at chaps stealing sometimes, if they feel like I do.”“What nonsense!” I cried: “I say, here’s Eely coming back.”“Is he?” said Mercer sharply. “Then I’m off in.”“Why, you’re never going to be such a coward as to be bullied into obeying his orders.”“Oh yes, I am,” replied my companion. “Time isn’t ripe yet. But when it is—oh!”He gave vent to that exclamation with peculiar force, though it was only a low hiss, and I followed him with my eyes, half disposed to think that Tom Mercer would prove a rotten reed to lean upon if I wanted his support in a struggle against our tyrant; though, truth to tell, as Burr came rolling along with half a dozen boys about, all ready at a word from him to rush at me, I did not feel at all confident of being able to resist his authority, and I began to move off.“Hullo!” he cried. “Here’s the gallant horseman, boys. Let’s go and see him ride.”“Yah! he can’t ride,” cried Dicksee; “he’ll tumble off.”“Not he,” said Burr major. “Old Lom ties his ankles together under the horse. But he does look an awful fool when he’s on board. I say, Burr junior, you don’t think you can ride, do you?”“No,” I said quietly.“And you never will. I say, boys, what an ugly beggar he grows! I know why he’s learning riding.”“Do you? Why?” cried Dicksee.“They’re going to make a groom of him.”The blood flushed up in my face, and I began to feel as if the time must be getting ripe.“Why, he was bragging about going to be a soldier!” cried another boy.“Him! A soldier! Ha, ha, ha!” cried Burr major. “They wouldn’t even have a big-eared-looking fellow like that for a parchment-whopper.”“He said a horse soldier.”“Horse sneak,” said Burr major scornfully. “A soldier! Ho, ho, ho! Ha, ha, ha! I say, boys—a soldier!”He burst into a yell of laughter, all forced, of course, and his satellites roared too, some of them, to curry favour, beginning to dance about him, and look eagerly in his face, as if for orders.Of course it was very absurd to mind, but I could not help it, and tingled all over.“Oh, I wish Mercer was here!” I thought to myself.“The time must be ripe;” and I suppose my face showed something of what I felt, for Burr major cried,—“Look at the puppy, boys; he looks as if he wanted to bite. Did you ever see such an impudent beggar? I don’t believe his name’s Burr at all. It’s only a bit of a show-off.”At that moment there was a hail from the paddock, and the school bell rang for the first lesson.“There, groom, you’re wanted,” said Burr major sneeringly. “Go on and learn to ride, and mind you don’t hurt yourself.”“Yah! Go on, ugly!” cried Dicksee, and the boys roared.“Do you hear, sham sodger? Be off, and don’t stand staring like that,” cried Burr major again. “I told you to go.”“Go yourself,” I retorted, now thoroughly roused, and feeling reckless. “Go in to school and learn your lessons, and mind the Doctor don’t cane you.”“What?” cried the tall, thin fellow, flushing up, as he advanced upon me menacingly, while the bell was rapidly getting toward its last strokes,—“what’s that you say?”“Go in and get to your lessons, and take that fat-faced booby with you.”“Well!” cried Burr, “of all!” and he looked astounded.“That’s it, is it? Cheeking me because you know I can’t stop now. But all right, I shan’t forget it. If I do, Dicksee, you remind me after lessons that I’ve got to warm Jollop and this groom boy. The Doctor’s been spoiling them both lately, and they want taking down.”“All in, all in, to begin!” was shouted from the doors.“Oh yes, we’re coming soon,” said Burr major, throwing up his head. “Wait a bit, you, sir, and I’ll teach you to insult your seniors.”“All in, all in!”“Here, Dicksee, go and hit that fellow on the mouth for shouting.”“All in, all in!” came again, directed at our group.“Coming,” cried Burr major. Then to me: “After morning studies, you sir. I don’t suppose I shall forget.”“If you do, I shan’t, bully,” I said, and he turned upon me more astonished than ever, and then burst into a fit of derisive laughter.“He’s mad,” he cried. “Here, boys, Senna’s been gammoning him into taking some of his physic, and he don’t know what he’s saying.”“Dicksee—Burr major. Come, boys.”Mr Rebble was standing in the schoolhouse doorway, and all but Burr major ran off. He took out his watch, and walked away importantly after the others, while I felt a peculiar nervous thrill run through me, and began wondering whether I had been too bold, as I went off hurriedly now to where Lomax was waiting with the horse.“I don’t care,” I said; “he may thrash me, but I won’t be bullied like that, and insulted, without a try.”“Come, young gentleman,” cried the sergeant. “I began to think you were going to shirk it.”“Not I, Lom,” I cried, and, feeling peculiarly excited, I went up to the horse’s head and patted him, while the sergeant removed the stirrups. Then he gave me a leg up, and I was hoisted into my seat, and went through my lesson—walk, trot, and gallop, with the saddle seeming less slippery, and without coming off once.The sergeant, I noticed, was very severe, and barked and shouted at me and the horse, keeping us doing the same things over and over again, and growing more exacting as we went on. But I hardly noticed him, for my head was all in a whirl, and I was thinking about after lessons, and what would happen then. So occupied was I with my thoughts that I never once felt nervous, but as if all I had to do was to sit still and let the horse obey the orders.Lomax finished me off with a canter round the paddock, which was taken at a pretty good pace, and very easy the horse’s pace was, but I was thinking of Burr major’s sneering face all the time, and his long arms and bony white hands. Then about Mercer, and what he would say—what he would do.“Are we both to have a good thrashing?” I asked myself, as the horse cantered on, and “Right wheel—left wheel—forward!” rang in my ears. “Are we to be made more uncomfortable than ever?” I thought; “and shall we forget all about what old Lom taught us?”My arms did not move, my left hand held the reins on a level with my imaginary waist-belt, about which the sergeant talked, and my right hand hung steadily down just by my leg, but all the time I was on guard, and keenly on the watch for blows from those white bony hands that seemed to be flourished before me. Then I fancied concussions and dizziness, and felt blows, and rolled over upon the grass, but not off the horse, for it was all fancy; and I was just seeing in my mind’s eye poor Tom Mercer going down before a heavy blow from Dicksee’s fat fist, when there rang out the word, “Halt!” and the horse stopped short.Lomax strode up in his stiff military fashion, and patted the cob on the neck.“Well?” he said sharply. “What am I to say to you now?”“I—I don’t know,” I faltered. “Shall we go through it again.”“No, no let the trooper breathe a bit. He has been kept at it pretty tightly. Well, how do you feel—stiff?”“No,” I said, flushing a little, full of a feeling of regret for my neglect in my lesson.“Bit sore about the knees, eh?”“Oh yes, my knees keep very sore,” I faltered.“Of course they do. Never so hard worked before. Soon get better. Let me see, this makes just a month you’ve been at it, eh?”“Yes, this is the end of the fourth week.”“Then don’t you think I deserve a bit of credit?”“Oh yes!” I cried eagerly. “You have taken great pains over me, Lom. I wish I had not been so stupid.”“So do I,” he said drily. “Saddle feel very slippery this morning?”“Oh no, I didn’t notice it,” I replied.“Didn’t long for the stirrups?”“I didn’t think about them.”“Felt as if you belonged to the horse now, eh, and could let yourself go with him?”“Oh yes,” I said.“Well, then, all I’ve got to say, my boy, is, ‘Brayvo!’ You went through it all wonderfully this morning, and quite astonished me. Seemed as if you and the horse were one, and you never showed the white feather once. Why, in another two or three months your uncle shall be proud of you.”“Then I went through my lesson well?” I said.“Splendidly, boy, splendidly. Couldn’t have done better. Now, trot the nag down home. Stop, you shall have the stirrups.”“No, not to-day, Lomax,” I said. “I’ve got an—an engagement to keep. Please take him down yourself.”“Right. I will. Hah! we’ve been longer than I thought, for the boys are coming out of school. Then down you come, and good morning.”I leaped off the horse, not feeling a bit stiff. Lomax replaced the stirrups, mounted, and went off again in the upright, steady way I had before admired, while I stood there listening to the shouting of the boys, and thinking of the thrashing I was bound to receive.

“How are your sore knees?” said Mercer one morning soon after my long first lesson in riding.

“Oh, dreadful!” I cried. “They get a little better, and then the riding makes them bad again.”

“But why don’t he let you have a saddle?”

“He does now,” I said—“that is, he did yesterday; but it’s worse riding on a saddle, it’s so slippery, and he will not let me have any stirrups.”

“When are you going again?”

“To-day, I suppose. The Doctor says I’m to get on as fast as possible, and make up with my other studies afterwards.”

“Wish I was going to learn to ride.”

“You wouldn’t much like it if you had to,” I replied. “Oh, I don’t know. It looks very nice to see you going along. But, I say, it does make Burr major so wild. I heard him tell Dicksee he should make his father send him a horse, and Dicksee said he ought to, and I laughed.”

“Did he hear you?”

“Yes, and gave me such a clip on the head with a cricket stump. Feel here.”

I placed my hand where he suggested, and there was a good-sized lump.

“What a shame!” I cried indignantly. “Didn’t you hit him again?”

“No; I only put it down. We’re going to pay it all back some day.”

“Yes; but when?” I cried.

Mercer shook his head.

“I say,” he continued, “I saw old Magglin this morning before breakfast.”

“What was he doing here?”

“Dunno. Wanted to see me, I suppose, and borrow a shilling.”

“Did you lend him one?”

“Yes; I felt obliged to.”

Just then Burr major came by us, and looked us both over sharply.

“Haven’t you two got any lessons to get ready?” he said.

“Yes,” I replied.

“Then go in and get them ready before I report you both to Mr Hasnip. Do you hear?”

“Yes,” I said; “but I’m going to have my riding lesson.”

“Your riding lesson!” he sneered; “you’re always going to have your riding lesson. I never saw such a school as it’s getting to be. It’s shameful! I shall go and ask Mr Hasnip if we boys are to be kept always at work, while you and Tom Mercer are idling about and enjoying yourselves.”

“All right,” said Mercer oracularly, in a whisper to me, as Burr major walked off importantly for a few yards, attended by his satellites, and then stopped, drew out his watch with a flourish, looked at it, and put it back with an air that he intended to be graceful.

“Look here, you, Tom Mercer—do you hear, Jollop? You’re not going to have riding lessons. I give you five minutes to get back to your work, and if you are not there then—you’ll see.”

“All right,” said Mercer again; and then, as Burr major was out of hearing, “Any one would think he was the Doctor. Oh, I should like to—” he continued, grinding his teeth. “Think we could, Frank?”

“I don’t know,” I said hesitatingly; “but when he talks like that, it makes me feel horribly mad, and as if I should like to try.”

“Never mind. Wait a bit; the revolution isn’t ripe yet,” said Mercer darkly. “Wish I’d got a watch like that.”

I was very angry, but my companion’s sudden change from thoughts of revenge to covetousness seemed exceedingly droll.

“What are you laughing at?” he said.

“At you about the watch.”

“Well, I can’t help it, Frank. That watch seems always staring at me with its round white face, and holding out its hands to me. I dream of it of a night, and I’m always longing for it of a day. You can’t tell how bad it makes me feel sometimes.”

“You shouldn’t think about it, Tom.”

“I can’t help it. I don’t want to, but the thoughts will come, dreadfully. I say,” he whispered darkly, “I don’t wonder at chaps stealing sometimes, if they feel like I do.”

“What nonsense!” I cried: “I say, here’s Eely coming back.”

“Is he?” said Mercer sharply. “Then I’m off in.”

“Why, you’re never going to be such a coward as to be bullied into obeying his orders.”

“Oh yes, I am,” replied my companion. “Time isn’t ripe yet. But when it is—oh!”

He gave vent to that exclamation with peculiar force, though it was only a low hiss, and I followed him with my eyes, half disposed to think that Tom Mercer would prove a rotten reed to lean upon if I wanted his support in a struggle against our tyrant; though, truth to tell, as Burr came rolling along with half a dozen boys about, all ready at a word from him to rush at me, I did not feel at all confident of being able to resist his authority, and I began to move off.

“Hullo!” he cried. “Here’s the gallant horseman, boys. Let’s go and see him ride.”

“Yah! he can’t ride,” cried Dicksee; “he’ll tumble off.”

“Not he,” said Burr major. “Old Lom ties his ankles together under the horse. But he does look an awful fool when he’s on board. I say, Burr junior, you don’t think you can ride, do you?”

“No,” I said quietly.

“And you never will. I say, boys, what an ugly beggar he grows! I know why he’s learning riding.”

“Do you? Why?” cried Dicksee.

“They’re going to make a groom of him.”

The blood flushed up in my face, and I began to feel as if the time must be getting ripe.

“Why, he was bragging about going to be a soldier!” cried another boy.

“Him! A soldier! Ha, ha, ha!” cried Burr major. “They wouldn’t even have a big-eared-looking fellow like that for a parchment-whopper.”

“He said a horse soldier.”

“Horse sneak,” said Burr major scornfully. “A soldier! Ho, ho, ho! Ha, ha, ha! I say, boys—a soldier!”

He burst into a yell of laughter, all forced, of course, and his satellites roared too, some of them, to curry favour, beginning to dance about him, and look eagerly in his face, as if for orders.

Of course it was very absurd to mind, but I could not help it, and tingled all over.

“Oh, I wish Mercer was here!” I thought to myself.

“The time must be ripe;” and I suppose my face showed something of what I felt, for Burr major cried,—

“Look at the puppy, boys; he looks as if he wanted to bite. Did you ever see such an impudent beggar? I don’t believe his name’s Burr at all. It’s only a bit of a show-off.”

At that moment there was a hail from the paddock, and the school bell rang for the first lesson.

“There, groom, you’re wanted,” said Burr major sneeringly. “Go on and learn to ride, and mind you don’t hurt yourself.”

“Yah! Go on, ugly!” cried Dicksee, and the boys roared.

“Do you hear, sham sodger? Be off, and don’t stand staring like that,” cried Burr major again. “I told you to go.”

“Go yourself,” I retorted, now thoroughly roused, and feeling reckless. “Go in to school and learn your lessons, and mind the Doctor don’t cane you.”

“What?” cried the tall, thin fellow, flushing up, as he advanced upon me menacingly, while the bell was rapidly getting toward its last strokes,—“what’s that you say?”

“Go in and get to your lessons, and take that fat-faced booby with you.”

“Well!” cried Burr, “of all!” and he looked astounded.

“That’s it, is it? Cheeking me because you know I can’t stop now. But all right, I shan’t forget it. If I do, Dicksee, you remind me after lessons that I’ve got to warm Jollop and this groom boy. The Doctor’s been spoiling them both lately, and they want taking down.”

“All in, all in, to begin!” was shouted from the doors.

“Oh yes, we’re coming soon,” said Burr major, throwing up his head. “Wait a bit, you, sir, and I’ll teach you to insult your seniors.”

“All in, all in!”

“Here, Dicksee, go and hit that fellow on the mouth for shouting.”

“All in, all in!” came again, directed at our group.

“Coming,” cried Burr major. Then to me: “After morning studies, you sir. I don’t suppose I shall forget.”

“If you do, I shan’t, bully,” I said, and he turned upon me more astonished than ever, and then burst into a fit of derisive laughter.

“He’s mad,” he cried. “Here, boys, Senna’s been gammoning him into taking some of his physic, and he don’t know what he’s saying.”

“Dicksee—Burr major. Come, boys.”

Mr Rebble was standing in the schoolhouse doorway, and all but Burr major ran off. He took out his watch, and walked away importantly after the others, while I felt a peculiar nervous thrill run through me, and began wondering whether I had been too bold, as I went off hurriedly now to where Lomax was waiting with the horse.

“I don’t care,” I said; “he may thrash me, but I won’t be bullied like that, and insulted, without a try.”

“Come, young gentleman,” cried the sergeant. “I began to think you were going to shirk it.”

“Not I, Lom,” I cried, and, feeling peculiarly excited, I went up to the horse’s head and patted him, while the sergeant removed the stirrups. Then he gave me a leg up, and I was hoisted into my seat, and went through my lesson—walk, trot, and gallop, with the saddle seeming less slippery, and without coming off once.

The sergeant, I noticed, was very severe, and barked and shouted at me and the horse, keeping us doing the same things over and over again, and growing more exacting as we went on. But I hardly noticed him, for my head was all in a whirl, and I was thinking about after lessons, and what would happen then. So occupied was I with my thoughts that I never once felt nervous, but as if all I had to do was to sit still and let the horse obey the orders.

Lomax finished me off with a canter round the paddock, which was taken at a pretty good pace, and very easy the horse’s pace was, but I was thinking of Burr major’s sneering face all the time, and his long arms and bony white hands. Then about Mercer, and what he would say—what he would do.

“Are we both to have a good thrashing?” I asked myself, as the horse cantered on, and “Right wheel—left wheel—forward!” rang in my ears. “Are we to be made more uncomfortable than ever?” I thought; “and shall we forget all about what old Lom taught us?”

My arms did not move, my left hand held the reins on a level with my imaginary waist-belt, about which the sergeant talked, and my right hand hung steadily down just by my leg, but all the time I was on guard, and keenly on the watch for blows from those white bony hands that seemed to be flourished before me. Then I fancied concussions and dizziness, and felt blows, and rolled over upon the grass, but not off the horse, for it was all fancy; and I was just seeing in my mind’s eye poor Tom Mercer going down before a heavy blow from Dicksee’s fat fist, when there rang out the word, “Halt!” and the horse stopped short.

Lomax strode up in his stiff military fashion, and patted the cob on the neck.

“Well?” he said sharply. “What am I to say to you now?”

“I—I don’t know,” I faltered. “Shall we go through it again.”

“No, no let the trooper breathe a bit. He has been kept at it pretty tightly. Well, how do you feel—stiff?”

“No,” I said, flushing a little, full of a feeling of regret for my neglect in my lesson.

“Bit sore about the knees, eh?”

“Oh yes, my knees keep very sore,” I faltered.

“Of course they do. Never so hard worked before. Soon get better. Let me see, this makes just a month you’ve been at it, eh?”

“Yes, this is the end of the fourth week.”

“Then don’t you think I deserve a bit of credit?”

“Oh yes!” I cried eagerly. “You have taken great pains over me, Lom. I wish I had not been so stupid.”

“So do I,” he said drily. “Saddle feel very slippery this morning?”

“Oh no, I didn’t notice it,” I replied.

“Didn’t long for the stirrups?”

“I didn’t think about them.”

“Felt as if you belonged to the horse now, eh, and could let yourself go with him?”

“Oh yes,” I said.

“Well, then, all I’ve got to say, my boy, is, ‘Brayvo!’ You went through it all wonderfully this morning, and quite astonished me. Seemed as if you and the horse were one, and you never showed the white feather once. Why, in another two or three months your uncle shall be proud of you.”

“Then I went through my lesson well?” I said.

“Splendidly, boy, splendidly. Couldn’t have done better. Now, trot the nag down home. Stop, you shall have the stirrups.”

“No, not to-day, Lomax,” I said. “I’ve got an—an engagement to keep. Please take him down yourself.”

“Right. I will. Hah! we’ve been longer than I thought, for the boys are coming out of school. Then down you come, and good morning.”

I leaped off the horse, not feeling a bit stiff. Lomax replaced the stirrups, mounted, and went off again in the upright, steady way I had before admired, while I stood there listening to the shouting of the boys, and thinking of the thrashing I was bound to receive.

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