Chapter VII.
A Beast of a Temper.
Wyatt was quite right, for the breakfast partaken of with his two brother-officers set the lad thinking in a very different way. Before the meal he felt weary and rather despondent; after, he was only a trifle stiff and sore, and would have been ready for another lesson.
“You’ll take it easy to-day, Darrell,” said the captain. “We’re going to have a march out, but as you have no horse yet you can only see us off, unless you would like to try one of mine. Think you could manage it?”
“I’ll try, sir,” said Dick.
“Hum—ha—yes,” said the captain thoughtfully; “but perhaps you had better not. My two chargers are rather spirited beasts.—What do you think, Wyatt?”
“Better stop at home,” said Wyatt bluntly. “It’s too soon yet. Have a dozen of old Stubbs’s drillings first, and by then I dare say we shall have helped you to choose a mount. We have plenty always being offered. Here, you will be able to see poor Morrison’s Arab, Burnouse, this morning.”
“Why wouldn’t it do for me?” said the lad sharply. “It is used to the drill, and would keep in its place.”
“Yes,” said Wyatt, laughing; “but that isn’t all. It’s you that would have to keep in yours.”
“You think it would be too much for me?”