Some of the girls preferred to take no risks, and got down and walked wisely and safely, amid the laughter and good-humoured banter of the elect, across the gulf. Most, however, showed their confidence in their swains, and at the same time trebled their anxieties, by keeping their seats and allowing their horses to be led across.
Young Torode came galloping across the Common while Gray Robin and Carette and I were still waiting our turn. He reined in Black Boy with a firm hand, and the ruffled black sides worked like bellows, and the angry black head jerked restively, and the quick-glancing eyes looked troubled and vicious.
Torode laughed derisively as Elie Guérin set out with cautious step to lead his old horse over, with Judith Drillot clutching the saddle firmly and wearing a face that showed plainly that it was only a stern sense of duty to Elie that kept her up aloft.
"Ma foi!" laughed Torode. "He would do it better in a boat. It's well seen that Monsieur Guérin was not born to the saddle. Has no one ridden across yet?"
"But yes,—Helier Godfray rode over all right. All the same—" said one, with a shrug and shake of the head.
"It's as easy as any other road if you've got a steady head and a firm hand," said Torode.
"Will you ride, Carette, or walk?" I asked. "I shall lead Gray Robin."
She looked down into my eyes for one moment, and I looked up into hers. She did not like the Coupée, I knew, but she would not put me to shame.
"I will ride," she said.
"You're never going to lead across, Carré?" cried Torode. "And with a horse like a Dutch galliot! Man alive! let me take him over for you!—Shall I?" and he bustled forward, looking eagerly up at Carette.