"All right, sir," said Mike, and handed him the whip. He followed him with his eyes as he rode out of the yard. "He don't sit like Master John. It wouldn't take much to throw him off. However, I've warned him, and he must have his own way if he breaks his neck."
Although Ben had spurned Mike's warning with so much disdain, he thought of it as he rode up the street, and let Prince take his own gait. The truth was, he did not feel very secure in his seat, and did not feel very much confidence in his own horsemanship. Indeed, he would not have cared to ride out this afternoon, but for the anticipated pleasure of mortifying John.
He rode leisurely along, taking the direction of the academy, which was nearly a mile distant. He looked at his watch, and estimated that he would meet the pupils of the academy as they emerged from school.
He was right in his reckoning. At precisely four o'clock there was a bustle about the doors, and with merry shouts the boys poured out into the street. Among them were John Oakley and Sam Selwyn, who, as intimate friends and classmates, generally were found in company. They turned up the street which led by Mr. Selwyn's office, and in the direction of John Oakley's home.
"John," said Sam, suddenly, "I do believe that is Ben Brayton riding on your horse."
John looked up the street, and saw that Sam was right.
"You are right, Sam," he said.
"Did you tell him he might ride on it?"
"No."
"Then what business has he with it?"