“That will do for this morning, sir. You’ve been on a horse before.”
“Yes,” said Dick quietly; “I used to ride about with my father when I was at home.”
The syce clapped the saddle on the horse again, and walked it away to the stables; and, after a word or two from the sergeant, the two officers marched back to quarters.
“Feel stiff, Darrell?” said Wyatt.
“Yes, and sore about the knees. I’m not used to riding without a saddle.”
“Capital practice. Keep it up; the sergeant’s a splendid teacher.”
“Rather a rough one,” said Dick.
“Ah, you’re tired. Come and have breakfast. You’ll feel better then. Go to your room and have a wash and brush; I’ll wait for you. You’ll just have time. Hulton likes us to be punctual. Here—No, I’ll go straight on; join me there.”
“Yes,” said Dick quietly, and he went to his room, while Wyatt went on and found his brother-officer ready and the servants waiting to bring in the breakfast.
“Been to the riding-school?”