"I can ride my own moke."
"Like a turn on Hard Times?"
"Yes! I should."
This was said in a manner that was all the more decided for the moments of deliberation which preceded it. The piano-tuner was paler even than usual, but all at once his jaw had grown hard and strong, and there was a keen light in his eyes. The others looked at him, unable to determine whether it was a good rider they were dealing with or a born fool.
"Fetch him out of the yard, Sam," said Gilroy to the groom. "This gentleman here is going to draw first blood."
Sam Rowntree stared.
"You'd better not, mister," said he, looking doubtfully at the musician. "He's fresh off the grass—hasn't had the saddle on him for two months."
"Get away, Sam. The gentleman means to take some of the cussedness out of him. Isn't that it, Engelhardt?"
"I mean to try," said Engelhardt, quietly.