“Not much,” was the answer of the younger, who began swearing in no measured terms at the waggoner for not keeping out of the way, and ordering him to stop. The latter, however, taking no notice of this, went on. “They got the worst of it this time,” he muttered. “Better that than to have run over an old woman, as I see’d just such a pair as they do not long ago.”
A fresh volley of abuse uttered by the young naval officer followed the retreating waggoner.
“Come, Reginald, don’t waste your breath on the rascal,” cried the elder gentleman. “I’ll help the boy to hold down the horse, while you undo the traces. What’s become of Cato?”
“Here I, my Lord,” said the black tiger, who, having partially recovered, now came hobbling up.
Owen, in the meantime, had been using every exertion to keep down the spirited horse, until the harness, detached from the cab, would allow the animal to rise without injuring itself. Several persons, mostly idle men and women, instead of coming forward to assist, stood by, amused at the disaster which had occurred to the gentlemen.
“Had but the young cove kept a decent tongue in his head plenty would have been ready to help him,” remarked one of the bystanders.
The black boy seemed somewhat afraid of the horse, and having scarcely recovered was of no use. The gentlemen, therefore, had to depend on their own exertions, aided by Owen.
The one called Reginald, when once he set to work, quickly got the harness unstrapped.
“Here, Arlingford, you take the horse’s head, and let him get up. Out of the way, boy, or he’ll be over you,” he shouted to Owen.
The horse, hitherto held down by Owen, rose to its feet. It took some time before the eldest of the young men, by patting its neck and speaking soothingly, could quiet the animal sufficiently to be again put into the cab. Owen assisted in buckling up the harness, while the black tiger, now recovered, came and held the horse.