"Where—is—your—quadruped?" he asked, with a cool, deliberate politeness, which fell upon Jack's mood like drops of water on red-hot steel.
"That villain! he claims the reward for him! But I never'll pay it in the world!"
Betterson smiled and said, "Ah! Peakslow! Highly characteristic!"
"He threatened to shoot me!"
"Very likely. He has threatened to shoot me, on one or two occasions. I said, 'Shoot!'" (Jack wondered whether he said it with that condescending smile and gracious gesture.) "It isn't agreeable to have dealings with a person who talks of shooting his fellow-men; but I imagine there's no danger, if you keep cool."
"I couldn't keep cool," said Jack. "I got as mad as he was. I could have shot him."
"That, my friend," Lord Betterson replied, with a wave of the hand, "was an error,—quite natural, but still an error. You stay to dinner?"
"Thank you, I have promised myself that pleasure."
Jack was ashamed of having given way to his anger; and he determined from that moment, whatever happened, to keep calm.
As he threw his useless bridle down, and left Lion to guard it, he saw Wad starting off with a pail, and asked where he was going.