Speid’s eyes glittered.
‘Where is your cart? We will go, Jimmy.’
‘It’s no here, sir; I ran.’
The sailor had come to the door, and was standing behind his friend.
‘My carriage is in the yard,’ he said. ‘Take it, Speid; it holds four. Are you going, boy?’
Jimmy did not think reply necessary.
‘Macquean, run to the farm, and get any men you can find. I will go to the stable, Captain Somerville, and order your phaeton; my own gig only holds two. Oh, if I had but known of this earlier! What it is to have a fool for a servant!’
‘It is worse to have a stick for a leg,’ said Somerville; ‘but I am coming, for all that, Speid. Someone must drive, and someone must hold the horse.’
‘Do, sir, do!’ cried Gilbert, as he disappeared into the darkness.
With Jimmy’s help, he hurried one of his own horses into the shafts of the Captain’s carriage and led it to the doorstep. As the sailor gathered up the reins, Macquean returned breathless.