“Mind your own business, upstart,” cried the captain; and ordering his horse he mounted and set off with a lurch, first on one side, and then on the other, each threatening to send him out of the saddle.
“He’ll be all right, Armstrong,” said a jovial-looking officer, watching. “Come, have another glass. By the time he is at the top of the long hill he will be sober as a judge.”
“Perhaps so,” said Humphrey aloud. Then to himself, “I don’t half like it, though. The road’s bad, and I shouldn’t care for anything to happen to him, even if it is to make me heir to the estate. I wish I had not let him go.”
He returned to the room where the officers had commenced a fresh bowl of punch, for they had no longer journey before them than upstairs to their rooms, and there were plenty of servants to see them safely into bed, as was the custom in dealing with the topers of that day.
“I’ve done wrong,” said Humphrey Armstrong, after partaking of one glass of punch and smoking a single pipe of tobacco from a tiny bowl of Dutch ware. “He was not fit to go home alone.”
He said this to himself as an officer was trolling forth an anacreontic song.
“It’s a long walk, but I shall not feel comfortable unless I see whether he has got home safely; and it will clear away the fumes of the liquor. Here goes.”
He slipped out of the room, and, taking a stout stick which was the companion of his hat, he started forth into the cool night air, and walked sturdily away in the direction of his cousin’s home.
About half an hour later the drowsy groom, who was sitting up for the captain’s return, rose with a sigh of satisfaction, for he heard the clattering of hoofs in the stable-yard.
“At last!” he cried; and, taking a lighted lantern, he hurried out, to stand in dismay staring at the empty saddle, which had been dragged round under the horse’s belly, and at the trembling animal, breathing hard and shaking its head.