“I don’t think there is any risk,” said Dick.
“You are as blind as you are obstinate, my lad,” said Wyatt. “I tell you it is a terrible risk; give it up.”
“It wouldn’t be acting like a soldier,” replied the lad earnestly. “The men are all looking on, and even if I felt afraid I shouldn’t dare to back out. But I don’t feel a bit afraid; and who wouldn’t long to ride a horse like this?”
“I wouldn’t, for one,” said Wyatt. “Well, good luck to you, then, my lad; but mind, for the brute’s as full of tricks as a monkey.”
“I’ll mind, but I wish I’d a whip instead of these spurs. That will do!” he cried sharply to the syce, who had finished altering the last buckle.—“Now, then, old fellow,” he cried, going to the Arab’s head and taking hold of the snaffle on either side, “it’s of no use; I’m going to ride you, so none of your tricks.”
The horse whinnied and threw up its muzzle as the lad resigned it to the groom. Then, without a moment’s hesitation, he took up the snaffle-rein, seized his opportunity when the off-side groom made the horse sidle towards him, thrust his foot in the stirrup, and heard Wyatt utter a kind of gasp as he sprang into the saddle, while the syces darted back to avoid the coming plunge.
Every eye was fixed upon the group, and the gunner who had been thrown smiled grimly at the sergeant, as much as to say, “Wait a minute and you’ll see.”
The horse uttered an angry squeal as he felt himself once more backed by a stranger, and then gave himself a tremendous shake as if to dislodge saddle and rider by bursting off the girths; but, finding this of no avail, he reared up till it seemed as if he must go over backward, and repeated the action again and again. But Dick sat fast, and gave and bent as if he were, as the sergeant said, a portion of his horse.
