"Where?" asked Mr. Grey, sharing John's excitement, but feeling a wicked disappointment in the failure of his evil plans.
"Don't you see him, sir? He's jist at the turnin'. Shure he looks like he had mastered the horse, as bowld as a hero."
It was as John had said. Side by side at a walk came the two horses with their riders. The fierce steed had found his master, and looked quiet and subdued. Never till that day had he been broken. Till this time he had felt his power, now he felt the power of another. Gilbert seemed perfectly at home on his back, and from his manner no one would have supposed that he had had a hard conflict with the brute, from which, had he not come forth victorious, the result might have been death or serious injury.
"He's dangerous," thought his uncle. "A boy who can subdue such a horse must have an unconquerable will. While he lives, I am not safe."
To John he said, wishing to keep up appearances:
"I told you he would come back safe. You only made a fool of yourself by worrying."
"Shure he must be a splindid rider, sir," said John, perplexed, "or else he has the divil's own luck, the one or the other."
Mr. Grey waited till the boys came up, and John took the liberty of doing the same, though he had been bidden to go back to his work.
"How did you enjoy your ride?" he inquired, looking to Gilbert. "I see you rode Bucephalus."
"I had a little fight with the horse," answered Gilbert, "but I came off best."