That was the beginning of things. The author felt that he had got the bit in his companion's mouth; that it rested with him which road was taken; depended on his skill as a rider. Still there was every care and caution to be exercised.
When you ride a young colt it is well to see that your saddle is well girt.
CHAPTER XXIII
LOVE'S LABOUR LOST
Prosperity attended the voyage; if that term may be applied to recovery of health. The sea-air—genial companionship had something to do with it—was pulling Dick round. He said he was a new man; received assurance of that fact from inspection of his reflection in the mirror.
Although his story was no longer visible on his face, it was in his heart; hidden away perhaps, but there still. He had left the stepping-stones of milk and beef-tea a long way behind; was walking through square meals as vigorously as any man aboard.
The friendship opened up in the little two-berth cabin had developed into the closest kind. On one side it had started garbed in the mantle of pretence. That was soon shed; sincerity taking its place.
Dick's fidelity was dog-like; he followed his companion about as if loath to lose sight of him. Masters had discovered in him artistic tendencies; the ability to draw well. It was long before Dick's hand ceased to remind one of a jelly; when it did, Masters asked, would Dick oblige him by doing something?