“If I could only get you to run straight, I 'd make a man of you,” said Grog, eying him fixedly. “There's not a fellow in England could do as much for you as I could. There's nobody knows what's in you as I do, and there's nobody knows where you break down like me.”
“True, O Grog, every word of it.”
“I 'd put you in the first place in the sporting world,—I 'd have your name at the top of the list at 'the turf.' In six months from this day—this very day—I 'd bind myself to make Annesley Beecher the foremost man at Newmarket. But just on one condition.”
“And that?”
“You should take a solemn oath—I 'd make it a solemn one, I promise you—never to question anything I decided in your behalf, but obey me to the letter in whatever I ordered. Three months of that servitude, and you 'd come out what I 've promised you.”
“I 'll swear it this moment,” cried Beecher.
“Will you?” asked Davis, eagerly.
“In the most solemn and formal manner you can dictate on oath to me. I 'll take it now, only premising you 'll not ask me anything against the laws.”
“Nothing like hanging, nor even transportation,” said Grog, laughing, while Beecher's face grew crimson, and then pale. “No,—no; all I 'll ask is easily done, and not within a thousand miles of a misdemeanor. But you shall Just think it over quietly. I don't want a 'catch match.' You shall have time to reconsider what I have said, and when we meet at Brussels you can tell me your mind.”
“Agreed; only I hold you to your bargain, remember, if I don't change.”