“My service to you, sir,” said Billy, bowing to Mark; “it would be hard to have got a better guide than you have in Master Harry. I can assure you, so far as wickedness goes, he's a match for any thing here—from the Royal Barracks to Trinity College.”
“Flattery, gross flattery, Bill. I was your own pupil, and you can't help partiality.”
“You are a most favourable specimen of private tuition, there's no doubt of it,” said Crossley, laughing, “and I have reason to be proud of you. Did Mr. O'Donoghue ever hear of your clearing out Hancey Hennessy at hazard—the fellow that carried the loaded dice?”
“Have done, Bill. None of these absurd stories now.”
“Nor what a trick you played Corny Mehan at the spring meeting with the roan cob that knew how to limp when you wanted him?—as great a devil as himself, Mr. O'Donoghue. You'd swear the beast had a bad blood spavin if you saw him move, and he all the time a three-quarter bred horse, without a stain or a blemish about him.”
Talbot seemed for a second or two somewhat uneasy at these familiar reminiscences of his friend Crossley, not knowing precisely how Mark might take them; but when he saw that a hearty laugh was the reception they met with, he joined in the mirth as freely as the others.
“The best of all was the Wicklow steeple-chase; sorrow doubt about it, that was good fun;” and Crossley laughed till his eyes streamed again with the emotion.
“You must tell me that,” said Mark.
“It was just this:—Mister Henry there had a wager with Captain Steevens of the staff, that he'd reach the course before him, each starting at the same moment from Quin's door at Bray. Well, what does he do, but bribes one of the boys to let him ride postillion to Steevens' chaise, because that way he was sure to win his wager. All went right. The bluejacket and boots fitted him neatly—they were both new—got on purpose for the day; and Mr. Talbot lay snug in the stable, waiting for the chaise to be ordered round, when down comes the word, 'Number four, two bays, you're wanted;' and up he jumps into the saddle, and trots round to the door, afraid of his life to look round, and keeping his chin sunk down in his cravat to hide his face. He never once looked back, but let the boys harness the cattle without saying a word.
“'My lord says you're to drive slow,' said one of the boys.