“He’s a-driving of hisself, sir,—our iron-greys, Mr. Arundel. Master ain’t so young as he used to was, and it’s my belief if any-think startles ’em he won’t be able to hold ’em—they go sweetly now, but they do pull most amazing. I drove ’em yesterday, and afore I got home my arms ached properly.”
“Did you mention this to General Grant?” inquired Lewis.
“Well, I told him I was afeard he’d find ’em pull rather stiff; but he only give me one of his dark looks, as much as to say, ‘Keep youi advice to yourself, and mind your own business.’ Master’s rather a hard gentleman to talk to, you see; he’s always been used to shooting and flogging the blacks, out in the Ingies, till it’s kind a-become natural to him; and as he can’t act the same here with us whites, why it puts him out like.”
“I do not see that anything can be done now,” observed Lewis, after a moment’s reflection. “If I had been here when the General started I would have told him the trick the iron-greys played us, and advised him not to drive them just yet; but I dare say it would have done no good; for, as you say, your master is not over fond of advice gratis. I suppose he has one of the grooms with him?”
“Only a mere boy, sir, and Miss Annie,” was the reply.
“What!” exclaimed Lewis in a quick, excited tone of voice; “is Miss Grant with him? Why did you not say so before? Which road have they taken? How long have they been gone?”
“About twenty minutes, or p’r’aps not so long,” returned Richards. “I think they’re gone to Camfield—leastways, I heard master tell Miss Annie to bring her card-case, ’cos he was going to call on Colonel Norton.”
“That must be eight miles by the road, but not much above five across the fields by Churton Wood,” rejoined Lewis.
“That is right, Mr. Arundel,” was the reply; “and the gates is unlocked, for I rode that way with a note for Colonel Norton the day afore yesterday.”
Ere Richards had finished speaking Lewis was on horseback; and as soon as they reached the park he turned to his pupil, saying, “Now, Walter, sit firmly, guide the pony on to the turf, tighten your reins, and then for a good canter; touch him with the whip—not too hard—that’s it.” Putting his own horse in motion at the same time, they rode forward at a brisk canter, which, as the horses grew excited by the rapid motion, became almost a gallop. Crossing the park at this pace, they turned down a bridle-path which led through a wood and across several grass fields, beyond the last of which lay a wide common. As they approached this Lewis took out his watch. “Above four miles in twenty mintues,—I call that good work for a pony. You rode very well, Walter,—you’ve a capital seat on horseback now.”