Gilbert was a smart boy, or perhaps I should say, young man, but he was not yet acquainted with the "ways that are dark, and the tricks that are vain," to which human craft is often led to resort. Least of all did he suspect any danger to himself from the uncle and cousin, who seemed to vie with each other in ministering to his enjoyment.
"Well, Jasper," said his father, the next morning, as they were seated at breakfast, "what plans have you for the enjoyment of our guest?"
"You ride on horseback, don't you, Gilbert?" inquired his cousin.
"Yes, I can ride a little."
"Wouldn't you like a gallop after breakfast?"
Gilbert responded readily in the affirmative. He had taken riding lessons in the city, and was accustomed to ride, whenever he had a chance, in the environs of the city. He was, in truth, an excellent rider, having taken lessons of an accomplished teacher, who often referred to him as one of the most proficient of his pupils. But when Jasper questioned him he only answered that he rode a little, having a strong disinclination to boast.
"I should think that would be an agreeable plan," said Mr. Grey. "What horses shall you take?"
"I will ride on my own. I am used to her, and don't like to change."
"How will you mount Gilbert?"
"He might ride on Bucephalus."