“And is it for the boy Norcott intends him?” asked Cleremont of Hotham.
“So he told me yesterday; and though I warned him that he hadn't another boy if that fellow should come to grief, he only said, 'If he's got my blood in him, he 'll keep his saddle; and if he has n't, he had better make room for another.'”
“Ain't he a-going beautiful now?” cried George, as the animal swung slowly along at a gentle trot, every step of which was as measured as clockwork.
“You 'll have to teach the youngster also, George,” said Hotham. “I 'm sure he never backed a horse in his life.”
“Nay, sir, he rode very pretty indeed when he was six years old. I didn't put him on a Shelty, or one of the hard-mouthed 'uns, but a nice little lively French mare, that reared up the moment he bore hard on her bit; so that he learned to sit on his beast without holdin' on by the bridle.”
“He's a loutish boy,” said Cleremont to the Captain. “I 'll wager what you like they'll not make a horseman of him.”
“Ecoles says he's a confounded pedant,” said the other; “that he wanted to cap Horace with him at breakfast.”
“Poor Bob! that was n't exactly his line; but he 'd hold his own in Balzac or Fred Soulié.”
“Oh, now I see what Norcott was driving at when he said, 'I wanted the stuff to make a gentleman, and they 've sent me the germ of a school-usher.' I said, 'Send him to sea with me. I shall be afloat in March, and I 'll take him.'”
“Well, what answer did he make you?”