"Well, do it now," answered Rigby, suggesting what he considered to be impossible.
"All right; I will," returned Liddle recklessly. "Wait till the lights have been put out and the coast is clear, and I'll go and ride the nag to-night. But look here, my boy," continued the speaker, with a malicious twinkle in his eyes: "if I go you'll have to come too, as a witness, or Maggers won't believe I've won my wager."
"I never said I'd do anything of the kind," answered the other, rather drawing in his horns.
"Ho, ho!" sneered Liddle, perceiving his advantage, and proceeding to make the most of it; "you're funky. You try to make out that other people haven't the spirit to do a thing when really you're afraid to try it yourself."
"I'm not afraid," was the reply; "I only say it can't be done, so what's the good of gabbing about it any further?"
"It can be done," asserted Liddle. "All you have to do is to wait till there's no one about, then get out of this window on to the roof of the shed, creep along that, and down by the water-butt, then hop over the wall, and there you are. Come; you've as good as dared me to do it, and I say I'll go and ride the horse if you'll come and see me do it. Now, will you go, or will you not?"
"There's no sense in it," grumbled Rigby.
"Pooh! you mean you haven't got the pluck."
There was a general laugh. Rigby found himself in a trap of his own making. If he drew back he stood a good chance of being exposed to ridicule as an empty boaster, besides practically confessing himself Liddle's inferior in daring. His face twitched with excitement and vexation.
"Oh, very well, I'll go!" he answered desperately. "But I don't see any object in it, all the same."