“He can if he will. The trouble is that he sees things without thinking of learning anything about them. If he begins to cultivate the habit of investigation it will grow on him, and it will not be long before he will discover the value of some of the knowledge thus obtained. Try it, Barney.”
“Begobs, Oi will! Oi niver thought av it before, but it’s mesilf thot’ll be after trying it. Did yez notice th’ girrul wid thot horse-bater, Frankie?”
“Yes. Rather pretty, I thought.”
“It’s a p’ache she wur, me b’y!” enthusiastically declared the Irish lad. “It’s not plazed she wur wid th’ way th’ spalpane wur b’atin’ th’ poor b’aste.”
They came out of the wood to the open country, and a beautiful stretch of country lay before them.
Of a sudden, Barney gave an exclamation:
“Look there, Frankie!” he cried, pointing.
Along the road from a distance, coming toward them at a mad and furious gallop, was a horse, bearing a girl, who was vainly trying to hold the frightened animal.
In pursuit of the runaway was a man who was fiercely lashing another horse, and Frank recognized this animal even before he did the rider.
It was the handsome black horse that the stranger had been maltreating in the wood, and its rider was the same hot-tempered young man.