“You took up the wrong rein, sir. Civilians ride on the snaffle; soldiers ride on the curb.”
Dick nodded, and took up the curb-rein this time.
“Good. Now give me your left leg, and when I say ‘Mount,’ put a little spring into it as I give you a lift, raise your right leg high as you throw it over to clear your saddle and traps, and open your crutch wide as you let yourself drop on to the horse’s back. Of course there is no saddle, but you must mount as if there was. Ready!—Mount.”
The sergeant raised the lad’s leg, and seemed to be trying to throw him over to the other side of the horse, which kept on tossing its head about, but stood like a statue.
In an instant Dick was in his place.
“Off again!” cried the sergeant; and the lad threw himself off quickly. “Now, your leg. See if you can do that again.”
The orders were given, and the lad dropped once more easily into his place, Wyatt giving a satisfied smile, and the sergeant nodding.
“Attention!” he cried. “Now take up the snaffle-rein to hold loosely in your hand. That’s right. Get well down in your seat; sit perfectly upright, elbows more in, grip with your knees, and keep your toes pointed forward and your heels well down. Mind, you have to ride on the balance. That’s right. You will advance now at a walk.”
As he uttered the last word the syce darted back, and the horse went off at a quick walk down the side of the riding-school, along the end, right down the other side and bottom, and back to where the three were standing.
“Not bad, sir,” said the sergeant. “Feel pretty safe?” Dick nodded.