"Little Saxon?"
"Yes."
Hume eased himself in the saddle and looked down at Shandon keenly. A little sneeringly he demanded,
"What are you going to make it? A little penny ante game?"
Shandon stared at him curiously. Hume laughed again under his gaze and said arrogantly, after the born manner of the man,
"If you'll make the stakes worth a man's time I'll make you hunt your hole, Shandon."
A little flush crept up into Shandon's cheeks and his eyes hardened. It would be so easy to quarrel again with this man; the very sight of him, supremely egotistical and contemptuous, stirred a natural dislike into something very close to positive hatred. But these days he was making it his business to hold himself in check, he was turning his back against the old headlong ways, and he said quietly,
"Make your proposition. I see you've got one to make."
"I'll ride you any race you like, anywhere you like and at any time; provided it's a gentleman's game and not penny ante."
"Done," answered Shandon promptly. Had he refused it would have been the first time in his life he had refused a wager offered as this one was. "Name the sum and if it's anything I can raise I'm satisfied. And," his eyes steely, "I'll name the sort of race!"