Time passed, and still John, as he kept about his work, could not keep his thoughts off the adventurous youth who had ridden Bucephalus.
From time to time he went outside the stable, and shading his eyes with his hand, looked up the road, but still nothing was to be seen of either of the boys.
"If he can manage the ugly baste, he knows how to ride, that's sure," said John to himself. "I wish I was certain of that same, I do, by St. Patrick."
"What are you looking at, John?" asked a voice, near at hand.
John turned suddenly, and perceived that it was Mr. Grey who spoke.
"I was lookin' to see if the boys was comin' back," said John.
"They'll come back in due time. You needn't leave off your work for that."
"I wish I knowed that, sir."
"Knowed what?" repeated his employer.
"That the young man—Mr. Gilbert—would come back safe."