“Oh, de devil!” roared Jack, “he vill distribute me! he vill distribute me! I vill be killed! Nobody sall save me! here, garçon, grum!” roared he amid the mirth of the company. “Lay ‘old of his ‘ead! lay ‘old of his ‘ocks! lay ‘old of ‘eels! Oh, murder! murder!” continued he in well-feigned dismay, throwing out his supplicating arms. Off jumped Imperial John to the rescue of his friend, and seizing the dangling rein, chucked up the horse’s head with a resolute jerk that restored Jack to his seat.
“Ah, my friend, I see you are not much used to the saddle,” observed His Highness, proceeding to console the friend of an Emperor.
“Vell, sare, I am, and I am not,” replied Jack, mopping his brow, and pretending to regain his composure, “I am used to de leetle ‘orse at de round-about at de fair, I can carry off de ring ten time out of twice, but these great unruly, unmannerly, undutiful screws are more than a match for old Harry.”
“Just so,” assented His Highness, with a chuck of his Imperial chin, “just so;” adding in an under-tone, “then I’ll tell you what we’ll do—I’ll tell you what we’ll do—we’ll pop into the bar at the back of the house, and have a glass of something to strengthen our nerves.”
“By all means, sare,” replied Jack, who was always ready for a glass. So they quietly turned the corner, leaving the field to settle their risible faculties, while they summoned the pretty corkscrew ringletted Miss Tubbs to their behests.
“What shall it be?” asked Imperial John, as the smiling young lady tripped down the steps to where they stood.
“Brandy,” replied Jack, with a good English accent.
“Two brandies!” demanded Imperial John, with an air of authority.
“Cold, with?” asked the lady, eyeing Monsieur’s grim visage.
“Neat!” exclaimed Jack in a tone of disdain.