The boy laughed, pleased. “You are, aren’t you, sir? That was easy.” He put his hand on his own collar and nodded at the bishop’s. “A clergyman, of course—but I’d have known it anyhow—there’s something—and—” he hesitated, and then looked the older man in the eyes frankly, deferentially. “It’s plain to see, sir, if you will excuse me, that you’re a personage. I’m not taking liberties, am I?”
“Not a bit. I like it. I’d walk a mile for a compliment.” Then he laid his hand on the broad shoulder above him, for the lad towered. “My boy, I must tell you something also. That was a fine thing you did.”
The blue eyes opened wider. “Oh, you mean throwing the horse? It’s a dangerous trick, of course, but I had to. I didn’t want to, but the youngster was close. You’re a horseman—there wasn’t any other way, was there, bishop?”
“No,” the bishop said slowly. “There wasn’t any other way,” and let it go at that.
“I’m glad he’s not hurt,” the boy explained, “because he’s not mine. He belongs to a friend I’m staying with. That is”—he laughed—“I’m at his house. He and his people went off yesterday, and I was due to start for the States last night. But I stayed over for a ride. You see I was brought up on a horse, on the other side of the world, that was. And I’ve not had the chance lately, and I’ve missed it. Henderson would mind most awfully if I’d hurt Thunderbolt, and so should I. I’m keeping you, bishop.” He held out his hand. “Thanks, awfully, for helping me,” and the stiff formula held a heartiness which went to the bishop’s heart. He was attracted beyond explanation by this boy. He tried to think of a reason to lengthen the incident.
“You’re sure you’re not shaken up? I could drive you home with pleasure.”
But the young fellow laughed. “I’m perfectly fit; thanks ever so much. I hope we’ll meet again, bishop.”
They clasped hands as if both were sorry to part. “If I can ever do anything for you, you’ll try to let me know, won’t you?”
“I will, bishop,” the boy said heartily. And neither remembered that they did not know each other’s names, for it seemed an old friendship. And the young fellow vaulted into the saddle and was gone.
But in the mind of the bishop all that day, and for days after, there lingered a recollection of the big young figure, and the honest blue glance, and of the simplicity with which he had offered his life for a strange child’s. Seldom had the bishop met any one who had so pleased him—and he did not know his name.