“Yes, of course. Captain Duncan is afraid of losing his doctor, and you are not so much consequence as I. Here, jump up, and ride on first. Then we shall see where you fall.”
Bob looked at me wildly.
“Not afraid, are you?”
“N–no, father,” cried Bob desperately; and setting his teeth, he put his foot in the stirrup, mounted, and rode on along the high path with the rock on one side and the steep slope on the other, which ran down to where the perpendicular cliff edge began, with the sea a couple of hundred feet below.
“I don’t think I’d do that, Chowne,” I heard my father say in remonstrance.
“Bah, sir! Give the boy self-reliance. See how bravely he got over his scare. Haven’t liked him so well for a week. Do you think I should have let him get up if there had been any danger?”
“But there is danger,” said my father.
“Not a bit, sir. The pony’s as sure-footed as a mule. He won’t slip.”
No more was said, and in this fashion we walked home, with Bob in front on the pony and me by his side, for I ran on to join him, my father and Doctor Chowne coming behind.
Old Sam was outside as we came in sight of the cottage, and the old fellow threw his hat in the air as he caught sight of us, and then came to meet us at a trot, after disappearing for a moment in the house.