“Confound you, Nelly! what do you keep croaking for in that way?”
“It’s a’ ane to me; but, O man, ye’re unco like Rehoboam! Atweel ye needna flounce at that gate. Gang yer wa’s sodgerin’, and see what’ll come o’t. It’s ae special mercy that there’s a hantle o’ lint in the hoose, and the auld imbrocation for broken banes; and, in case o’ the warst, I’ll ha’e the lass ready to rin for Doctor Scouther.”
This was rather too much; so, with the reverse of a benediction on my gouvernante, I rushed from the house, and, with the assistance of Dugald, succeeded in mounting Masaniello, a task of no small difficulty, as that warlike quadruped persisted in effecting a series of peripherical evolutions.
“And when wull ye be back, and what wull ye ha’e for denner?” were the last words shouted after me as I trotted off to the rendezvous.
It was still early, and there were not many people abroad. A few faces decorated with the picturesque mutch, occasionally appeared at the windows, and one or two young rascals doubtless descendants of the disaffected who fell at Bonnymuir, shouted “Dook!” as I rode along. Presently I fell in with several of my comrades, amongst whom I recognised with pleasure Randolph and Anthony Whaup.
“By Jove, M’Whirter!” said the former, “that’s a capital mount of yours. I don’t think there is a finer horse in the troop; and I say, old chap, you sit him as jauntily as a janissary!”
“He has had hard work to do it though, as I can testify,” remarked Anthony, whose gelding seemed to be an animal of enviable placidity. “I wish you had seen us both at Kickshaw’s a week ago.”
“I dare say, but there’s nothing like practice. Hold hard, M’Whirter! If you keep staring up that way, you may have a shorter ride of it than you expect. Easy—man—easy! That brute has the mettle of Beelzebub.”
The remark was not uncalled for. We were passing at that moment before the Bogles’ house, and I could not resist the temptation of turning round to gaze at the window of Edith, in the faint hope that she might be a spectator of our expedition. In doing so, my left spur touched Masaniello in the flank, a remembrancer which he acknowledged with so violent a caper, that I was very nearly pitched from the saddle.
“Near shave that, sir!” said Hargate, who now rode up to join us “we’ll require to put you into the rear rank this time, where, by the way, you’ll be remarkably comfortable.”