“Lead the way, then!”
Apparently Ben felt that it would be unwise to demur, which he seemed much inclined to do, for after giving another gulp he picked up his lantern, and guided the Captain to a wicket-gate behind the tollhouse.
The shed proved to be surprisingly large, and when the lantern was hung up on a protruding nail its light revealed not only a collection of fowls, perched on a roost, but also some straw, and a truss of hay in one corner. There were unmistakable signs that Beau was not the first horse to be stabled there, a circumstance which John found interesting, but which he thought it wisest not to comment upon. Ben was regarding him with a mixture of awe and suspicion, so he smiled down at the boy, and said: “You needn’t be afraid: I shan’t hurt you. Now, my cloak’s too wet to put over Beau here: have you got a blanket to spare?”
“Ay. But if Mr. Chirk was to come—But I dessay he won’t!” said Ben. “Coo, he is a big prancer!”
He then took the saddle-bag which John had unstrapped, and went off with it. When he returned it was with a pail of water, and a horse-blanket. He found that the Captain, having shed his coat, was rubbing Beau down, and he at once collected a wisp of straw, and set to work on the big horse’s legs. He seemed to have decided that his uninvited guest, though alarmingly large, really did mean him no harm, for he looked much more cheerful, and volunteered the information that he had set the kettle on to boil. “There’s some rum left,” he said.
“There won’t be presently,” replied John, watching the boy’s fearless handling of his horse. The mild jest was well-received, a friendly grin being cast up at him. He said casually: “Do you work in a stable?”
“Some days I does. Others it’s all sorts,” replied Ben. “Mr. Sopworthy hires me mostly.”
“Who is he?”
“Buffer, at Crowford. Blue Boar,” said Ben, beginning to wipe the stirrups with a piece of sacking.
“Innkeeper?” hazarded John.