“Have you?” said Dick, looking at him curiously. “It was nothing; one only had to sit fast.”
“Nothing? Well, perhaps you’re right, but you gave us a tremendous scare.”
“I’m sorry,” replied Dick. “But I hope you won’t have the horse sent away. I’ll buy him if the price isn’t too much.”
“We shall be glad to let him go cheaply, but you’ll never dare to ride him.”
“Why not? I dared to ride him when he was quite strange to me; and, of course, when he knows and is used to me it will be quite a different thing. He only wants plenty of work and proper using.—Don’t you, old fellow?” he cried, leaning forward to pat the beautiful, arched neck.—“Look, Mr Wyatt: I’m hardly feeling his mouth, and he’s as quiet again.”
“But the brute has such a temper.”
“Don’t call him names!” cried Dick merrily; and, turning, he rested his hand upon his saddle, to call back to the old non-commissioned officer behind, “I say, Sergeant, don’t you think I’ve got on well with my riding after only one lesson!”
“You managed him wonderfully, sir!” cried the sergeant; “but I can’t have you riding in the troop like that. You looked like a jockey at a race, with his shoulders right up to his ears.”
“That’s complimentary,” cried Dick. “Never mind; you shall teach me to ride with my shoulders down.—I say, you,” he continued to the gunner; “I hope you are not much hurt!”
“Forgot all about it, sir. Had something else to think about.”