Ned Bundy said something under his breath.
“I dare say, but I’m not going to have a cousin of mine hit over the head,” said Ludovic. “Ready, Abel?”
A grunt answered him; the train began to move southward, Abel at its head. Ludovic mounted a rough pony and brought up the rear, still holding Eustacie’s bridle. She took instant exception to this, and after a short but pungent argument he let her go free, much against the advice of Ned Bundy, who was ranging alongside the convoy, whipping up the stragglers.
Eustacie interrupted Mr Bundy’s muttered suggestions for the disposal of her person by announcing calmly that she was quite tired of him, a remark which surprised that ferocious gentleman so much that he could think of nothing to say, and retired towards the head of the train. “Why does he want to hit me on the head?” asked Eustacie, looking critically after him. “He seems to me entirely stupid.”
“Well, he don’t hold with women being mixed up in these affairs,” explained Ludovic. “You’re devilish in the way, you know.”
“But you do not mind having me with you, do you?” asked Eustacie anxiously.
“Lord, no, I like it!” replied Ludovic light-heartedly. “Only you won’t care for it if there’s any shooting done.”
“Yes, I shall,” said Eustacie. “In fact, I wish very much that you will load my pistol for me and give it back to me, because if there is to be shooting I should like to shoot, too.”
“It’s not your pistol,” retorted Ludovic. “It’s mine, and let me tell you that I don’t lend my duelling pistols to anyone. Where is the other?”
“I left it in the case. I think you should be glad to lend it to me.”