“Fresh? Why, look at him. He’s spoiling for a fight. The brute’s upsetting the whole troop.”
“Is that Burnouse?” said Dick eagerly.
“Yes, my lad, that’s Burnouse; and you seem quite wrapped up in him.”
“Captain Morrison used to ride him?”
“Oh, yes; he used to ride him, but he could ride anything. We used to call him ‘Mazeppa,’ for Burnouse is a regular wild horse. Look at that; they can hardly hold him. Oh, here’s Hulton.—Well, what do you think of him now?”
“I think it’s a pity, for he’s a splendid beast. I should like to see him have a final trial, though, with the troop before we decide.”
“Well, ride him, then, to-day.”
This was said just as two chargers were led out by their syces, and brought towards where the officers were standing.
“No, thanks,” said the captain, smiling; “when I come to my end, I should like it to be by shot or sword. You’re a better horseman than I am, and ought to be able to manage him. Try him.”
Wyatt gave a peculiar writhe, and screwed up his face.