“Sure, an’ it’s a boy ye are for a joke, Masther Dick,” cried Dinny grimly. “I’ll howlt me legs up very high. Ah! what are ye shouting about? We’re coming.”
“Make haste there, Dick. Is anything wrong?”
“No, father!” shouted back Dick. “There, get along with you. Give him his head, Dinny, and he’ll go straight across.”
“I’d better make him canter, hadn’t I, Masther Dick, dear?”
“Canter? Nonsense! Why, the poor thing has enough to do to keep his feet walking.”
“Then it isn’t safe at all crossing the river, Masther Dick, dear. And ah, I daren’t go like this, wid me riding the good honest baste and you walking. What’ll the masther say?”
“That you are a terrible coward, Dinny,” replied Dick.
“Be aisy, Masther Dick. It isn’t being a coward, it’s thinking av my poor mother, and taking care of meself for the poor owld sowl’s sake. Whisht, Masther Dick, dear, jump up behind and hold on by me, and the baste’ll carry us both over.”
“It’s rather hard on the horse, Dinny, but I don’t want to get wet, so here goes. Hold tight.”
Dick took a leap, “fly the garter” fashion, and came down astride the bay, but startling it so that it began to rear and plunge.