“Oh, well, I daresay he may, but troopers are a different matter!”
That made Gervase laugh. “Very true! — as I know to my cost! But I have been more fortunate than many: I have only once been obliged to ride one.”
“When was that?” enquired Theo.
“At Orthes. I had three horses shot under me that day, and very inconvenient I found it.”
“You bear a charmed life, Gervase.”
“I do, don’t I?” agreed the Earl, seating himself at the table.
“Were you never even wounded?” asked Martin curiously.
“Nothing but a sabre-cut or two, and a graze from a spent ball. Tell me what cattle you have in the stables here!”
No question could have been put to Martin that would more instantly have made him sink his hostility. He plunged, without further encouragement, into a technical and detailed description of all the proper high-bred ‘uns, beautiful steppers, and gingers to be found in the Stanyon stables at that moment. Animation lightened the darkness of his eyes, and dispelled the sullen expression from about his mouth. The Earl, listening to him with a half-smile hovering on his lips, slipped in a leading question about the state of his coverts, and finished his breakfast to the accompaniment of an exposition of the advantages of close shot over one that scattered, the superiority of the guns supplied by Manton’s, and the superlative merits of percussion caps.
“To tell you the truth,” confessed Martin, “I am a good deal addicted to sport!”