"Why shouldn't he come back?" inquired James Grey.
"He rode on Bucephalus, sir."
"Suppose he did?"
"I'm afraid the ugly baste will do him some harm."
"I am not afraid. Bucephalus is a spirited horse, I am aware, but he is used to riding, and doubtless can manage him."
"So is Mr. Jasper used to riding, but you couldn't hire him to ride Bucephalus."
"He has a horse of his own," said Mr. Grey, impatiently, not liking John's pertinacity. "Of course he prefers to ride on his own horse."
"Would you ride him yourself, sir?" asked John, shrewdly.
"I have had enough of this," said Mr. Grey, sternly. "It is a good rule, John, to mind your own business, and I am forced to remind you of it. Go into the stable, and continue your work. I did not know Gilbert was going to ride Bucephalus, but as he has chosen to do it, I do not feel in the least anxious. I have no doubt he will come back safe."
"There he comes, begorra," exclaimed John, suddenly, swinging his hat in joyous excitement, "alive and kickin', sure, and the ugly brute as make and quiet as a lamb, too."