"He doesn't seem to have taken any hurt from the last race we had together," said Barnabas.
"'Arm, sir—lord, no—not a bit, never better! There's a eye for you, there's a coat! I tell you, sir, 'e's in the very pink, that 'e is."
"He does you great credit, Martin."
"Sir," said Martin as Barnabas prepared to mount, "sir, I hear as you ain't thinking of going back to town?"
"To the best of my belief, no, Martin."
"Why, then, sir," said the old groom, his face clouding, "p'r'aps I 'd better be packing up my bits o' traps, sir?"
"Yes, Martin, I think you had," answered Barnabas, and swung himself somewhat awkwardly into the saddle.
"Very good, sir!" sighed old Martin, his gray head drooping. "I done my best for the 'oss and you, sir, but I know I'm a bit too old for the job, p'r'aps, and—"
But at this moment Peterby approached.
"Sir," he inquired, a little anxiously, "do you feel able—well enough to ride—alone?"