“Hurrah, hurrah!” shouted the others gleefully, and soon the group of horsemen had joined the two friends and greetings and welcomes were warmly exchanged.
“You seem to be out of spirits, Charles,” said Verstork to van Nerekool as he shook his hand; “what is the matter with you, old fellow—I hope you are not ill?”
“No, thank you,” replied the other, “I am perfectly well. I will tell you by-and-by what ails me.”
“Mr. van Nerekool is suffering perhaps from the effects of a refusal,” remarked one of the young fellows who had accompanied Verstork.
The controller cast a look at his friend and noticed at once that the random and heedless shaft had struck home. He therefore at once changed the conversation and said, “If you are not unwell then let us forward to Banjoe Pahit.”
“Gentlemen,” he cried, “by threes trot!” and a moment after he gave the word “Gallop!” just like some old cavalry officer.
There was no need of the spur,—the fiery horses at once dashed forward, and away went the little band of friends galloping down the avenue which lay stretched out before them, and which, with its soft carpet of turf, hardly gave out a sound under the horses’ hoofs.
“Capital road this,” cried one of the company. “It speaks highly for the care the controller takes of his district!”
William Verstork gave him an approving nod, he was evidently by no means insensible to the compliment.
“Good means of communication, my friend, are the highways to prosperity,” replied he sententiously.