"And so, when I stepped away from the horse's head, the Principal jerked the reins in the nasty way he had and the horse bolted."
"Couldn't the fellow pull her up? Man in a position like that ought to know how to drive a horse."
Jack watched their faces closely. On his own face was that subtle look of innocence, which veiled a look of life-and-death defiance.
"The reins weren't buckled into the bit, sir. No man could drive that horse," he said quietly.
A look of amusement tinged with misgiving spread over Mr. George's face. But he was a true colonial. He had to hear the end of a story against powers-that-be.
"And how did it end?" he asked.
"I'm sorry," said Jack. "He broke his leg in the accident."
The three Australians burst into a laugh. Chiefly because when Jack said, "I'm sorry," he really meant it. He was really sorry for the hurt man. But for the hurt Principal he wasn't sorry. As soon as the Principal was on the ground with a broken leg, Jack saw only the hurt man, and none of the office. And his heart was troubled for the hurt man.
But if the mischief was to do again, he would probably do it. He couldn't repent. And yet his feelings were genuinely touched. Which made him comical.
"You're a corker!" said Mr. George, shaking his head with new misgiving.