“Yes, I intend to ride him,” Phil replied.
“Good boy!” cried Chap. “You’ll kill two birds with one stone. You’ll see about the oats, and you’ll have a chance to open fire on Joel, if he shows symptoms of revolt. As for me, I don’t think I’ll go with you. I’d rather stay home and see if I can’t get Old Bruden. I have your lordship’s permission to do that, haven’t I? I couldn’t go ahead, you know, without authority.”
“All right,” said Phil, “provided Susan delivers it up in a proper manner. That is the point, you know,—she is to give it up. I don’t want to get the gun in any underhanded way.”
“Exactly,” said Chap. “The laying down of the sword, or rather the hanging up of the gun, is what we are aiming at. You need not be afraid of me. I go in for high-handed—high-minded, I mean—warfare.”
Phil laughed, and, telling Chap to keep a sharp lookout on his own defences, left him alone with his warlike ideas.
Joel had been pretty grum and cross when Philip returned from his ride to town the day before, saying repeatedly that the horse had never been used in that way since Mr. Berkeley bought him. Phil explained how the thing had happened, but this did not make it appear in any better light in Joel’s eyes. Phil left him currying the horse and growling steadily.
Our young friend, therefore, was not surprised this morning when he told Joel that he wanted to ride Jouncer over to the Trumbull Farm, to see a dark cloud spread over that individual’s countenance.
“You don’t want to take that horse out again, do you?” he asked, sharply.
“Yes,” said Philip, “I intend to take him out again. He ought to be used, and I don’t propose to let him run away with me this time.”
“He’ll do it, if he’s a mind to,” said Joel.