While Oldbuck was giving some farther directions, and promising assistance, a servant of Sir Arthur’s came riding very hard along the sands, and stopped his horse when he saw the Antiquary. “There had something,” he said, “very particular happened at the Castle”—(he could not, or would not, explain what)—“and Miss Wardour had sent him off express to Monkbarns, to beg that Mr. Oldbuck would come to them without a moment’s delay.”
“I am afraid,” said the Antiquary, “his course also is drawing to a close. What can I do?”
“Do, sir?” exclaimed Hector, with his characteristic impatience,—“get on the horse, and turn his head homeward—you will be at Knockwinnock Castle in ten minutes.”
“He is quite a free goer,” said the servant, dismounting to adjust the girths and stirrups,—“he only pulls a little if he feels a dead weight on him.”
“I should soon be a dead weight off him, my friend,” said the Antiquary.—“What the devil, nephew, are you weary of me? or do you suppose me weary of my life, that I should get on the back of such a Bucephalus as that? No, no, my friend, if I am to be at Knockwinnock to-day, it must be by walking quietly forward on my own feet, which I will do with as little delay as possible. Captain M’Intyre may ride that animal himself, if he pleases.”
“I have little hope I could be of any use, uncle, but I cannot think of their distress without wishing to show sympathy at least—so I will ride on before, and announce to them that you are coming.—I’ll trouble you for your spurs, my friend.”
“You will scarce need them, sir,” said the man, taking them off at the same time, and buckling them upon Captain Mlntyre’s heels, “he’s very frank to the road.”
Oldbuck stood astonished at this last act of temerity, “are you mad, Hector?” he cried, “or have you forgotten what is said by Quintus Curtius, with whom, as a soldier, you must needs be familiar,—Nobilis equus umbra quidem virgae regitur; ignavus ne calcari quidem excitari potest; which plainly shows that spurs are useless in every case, and, I may add, dangerous in most.”
But Hector, who cared little for the opinion of either Quintus Curtius or of the Antiquary, upon such a topic, only answered with a heedless “Never fear—never fear, sir.”
With that he gave his able horse the head,
And, bending forward, struck his armed heels
Against the panting sides of his poor jade,
Up to the rowel-head; and starting so,
He seemed in running to devour the way,
Staying no longer question.