Draw Swords! Part 3

"Of course it does. Seems to rest all over your head instead of being held on like a band round your brows. There, I've taught you something.

Better let me see to your straps and slings. These tailors never have the slightest notion of how a man's accoutrements are to be worn."

The lieutenant examined straps and slings, altering the sword and sabretache buckles, and when these were to his satisfaction he turned to the jack-boots.

"Tried those on?" he said.

"Not yet."

"Jump into 'em."

"Oh, but not now."

"Yes, now. If a man has a good-fitting pair of boots he's half-dressed."

"Rather a small half, isn't it?" said d.i.c.k dryly.

"Bah! you're talking about clothes; I'm talking about a horseman's accoutrements. A man can ride twice as well if he has good boots. On with them."

Once more d.i.c.k obeyed.

"Humph! seem to go on pretty easy. Hurt you?"

"No. A little tight perhaps."

"They'll soon give. Humph! Yes, those will do. You can manage about your clothes yourself. You did try 'em on for the tailor?"

"Yes."

"Then they will not be so very full of wrinkles, I suppose. Let's see; there was something else. Oh, yes, I remember. What about a horse?"

"I've done nothing about that yet."

"I suppose not. You must have a good one, you know; but anything could carry you--you're light as a feather--not like me. But there's Morrison's horse to be sold."

"Morrison's? Who was Morrison?"

"One of ours, he was killed, poor chap! and his effects were sold--all but his horses. There's the one he used to ride in the troop, and it would make it easier for you, Hulton said, if you bought him; but--"

"But what?"

"He's rather an awkward horse to ride unless you know him."

"Well, I could get to know him," said d.i.c.k.

"Humph! yes--in time; but he has bad habits."

"I should have to break him off them."

"Of course."

"What does he do?"

"Likes playing tricks--biting his companions' necks; and when he can't get at them he tries men's legs."

"Pleasant!"

"Oh, very! Then, if he has some one on his back that he doesn't like he's fond of going on two legs."

"Which two?" said d.i.c.k, laughing.

"Oh, he isn't particular. Sometimes he chooses the forelegs, sometimes the hind. Then he dances a regular _pas seul_. Splendid horse to go when he has a strong hand at the rein and a big curb about the jaw."

"I say,"--said d.i.c.k, and he stopped.

"Yes! What?"

"The horse did not kill his master, did he?"

"Morrison? Poor old chap! No; a bullet from one of those miserable old matchlocks finished him. He was too good a rider for any horse to kill.

There, tuck your new toggery away. It looks nice and bright now, but it soon gets tarnished and dull--worse luck. Mind your man takes care of it, so as to make it last as long as it will. We're obliged to keep up our character. Come out then, and let's go and see Hulton, to get his opinion about a horse for you. By the way, what is your father?"

"A country doctor."

"Very rich?"

"Oh, no; he's comfortably off."

"Ah, well, then you mustn't be coming down too hard upon him for a horse. You've run up a pretty good bill for him already over your new outfit."

"Oh, no," said d.i.c.k quickly; "my Aunt Kate put five hundred pounds for me to draw upon to pay for my outfit."

"What!" cried Wyatt, "you've an Aunt Kate with plenty of money who has done that?"

"Yes."

"Give me her address, my dear boy; she must be everything that's good."

"She is," said d.i.c.k warmly. "But why do you want her address?"

"To write and propose for her at once, sir," said Wyatt, drawing himself up; "such a good woman ought not to remain single. She is single, of course?"

"Oh, yes," said d.i.c.k, smiling.

"That's right. I don't suppose I shall get back to England for a dozen years, but I shall still be young. Let's see; twenty-eight and twelve make forty, and that isn't old, is it?"

"Oh, no--middle-aged."

"You don't think she'd mind waiting, do you, till then?"