Presently a waggonette, driven by a very loud youth in a check suit, and with an enormous cigar in his mouth, pulled up in passing, and its driver addressed Gus.
“So you’ve found your way here, have you, my young bantam? Catch you being out of a good thing. Are you going on the grand stand?”
“Don’t know,” said Gus grandly. “We may pick up a trap in the town.”
“Ho, ho! going to do it flash, are you? Well, there’s one of you could do with a little spice,” added he, glancing at Charlie. “I suppose my trap’s not grand enough for you.”
“Can you give us a lift, then, Bill?” asked Gus, charmed at the idea.
“Yes, to be sure; I’ve no company to-day. There’s just room. Hop in. I may as well turn an honest penny as not. Here, you young sinner, jump up beside me on the box.” And before Charlie knew where he was or whither he was going he found himself on the box of the waggonette beside the flash youth, and his four friends behind him inside.
“Who’s your friend, Gus?” he heard Margetson ask.
“Son of Belsham, who keeps the ‘Green Tiger’ at Randlebury. We’re in luck, I can tell you, you fellows.”
As Charlie gradually recovered from his bewilderment he felt himself extremely uncomfortable and ill at ease. From what had been said he had gathered that the object of the boys in going to Gurley was something more than to see the town; and he by no means liked Gus’s new friend, or approved of his easy familiarity with a low publican’s son. It was not long before his dawning suspicions were fully confirmed.
“So you’re going to see the races?” asked Mr Belsham.