“The window’s mine! Good-bye, boys! My little lady is waiting for me.”
He swung his mare round, set his heels into her sides and, before anyone could move, the horse and its rider sprang for the window, dashed clear through it on to the roadway and away at a gallop, without so much as a stop or a stumble; leaving a shower of broken glass and splintered wood in their train.
CHAPTER XVIII
The Coat of Many Colours
Before going to work next morning, Phil peeped into Jim’s bedroom, and the sight proved pleasing to his eyes.
The place looked like a rocky beach after a storm and a shipwreck; boots, hat, spurs, leather straps, riding chaps, coat, pants, everything, lay in a muddle on the carpet, while Jim, the cause of all the rummage––innocent-looking as a newly born lamb, and smiling serenely in his evidently pleasant dreams––lay in bed, fast asleep.
At noon, after lunch, Phil looked in again, pushed the door wide and entered.
Jim was in his trousers and his undershirt, and was laboriously shaving himself before the mirror. He turned round and grinned. Phil grinned back at him and sat down on the edge of the bed.