But the man had had a second for reflection. He felt prepared to control his impulses. He began to scratch his head with the black tip of a forefinger.
“This may cost me my place,” he muttered.
“If you refuse, ’twill certainly cost you your life,” said Dick, grasping his arm. “Lead me to the stable, you rascal, and that at the top of your speed. If you try to trick me, ’twill be the last mistake of your life. Pick up the saddle and earn your guinea.”
The man certainly lost no time in obeying him; he shambled across the yard and through a stable door. Dick heard the sound of halter-rings and the fitful stamp of an iron hoof.
“That’s Hero, the best roadster in the stable,” said the man, pointing to a big roan horse. “But your honour will need to have it out with the master.”
“You’ll get your guinea and your master will get double the hire. Everybody knows Mr. Long,” said Dick.
Being aware of the instinctive cunning of these simple country people, Dick thought it as well to give a brief examination to the animal. So far as he could tell in the glimmer of the stable lantern the horse was a good one—broad-chested and strong.
The man flung on the saddle, and Dick saw that the girths were tight; then with a friendly nod to Sultan, who stood in one of the vacant stalls, he was mounting the roan. He threw the old man his promised guinea, saying:
“If I find that you’ve looked well after the Arab, you shall have another guinea to-morrow.”