CHAPTER III.
It was a brilliant July morning when I first donned my regimentals for actual service. Dugald M’Tavish, a caddy from the corner of the street, had been parading Masaniello, fully caparisoned for action, before the door at least half an hour before I was ready, to the no small delectation of two servant hizzies who were sweeping out the stairs, and a diminutive baker’s boy.
“Tak’ a cup o’ coffee afore ye get up on that muckle funking beast, Maister George,” said Nelly; “and mind ye, that if ye are brocht hame this day wi’ yer feet foremost, it’s no me that has the wyte o’t.”
“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 whan wull ye be back, and what wall 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.”