Читать книгу Too Clever by Half - Lang John - Страница 5

Table of Contents

"WHERE were you last night, Sam?" asked Mr. Harroway.

"At an evening party," was the reply. "Managed it beautifully."

"But where were you?"

"That's another matter. By and bye I'll introduce you, if you behave yourself. Very nice family indeed. Hospitable father,—sensible mother,—and the jolliest girls I ever met in the whole course of my life, and no brother. By the bye, Harroway, as I told one of the girls I had the best stud in the kingdom, I wish you would let me act as owner of one or two of your best animals—the chesnut and the grey for instance."

"Very well," said Harroway; "but don't forget they are mine—don't in an enthusiastic moment make a present of them, as you did by Jemmy Linton's family teapot."

"Never fear!" said Sam. "I'll buy a brace of good beasts as soon as my credit is well-established in this place; but in the meantime I must show myself off on yours; and if it would not make any great difference to you, I should like to own your Stanhope."

"Very well, Sam; anything you like."

"I'll introduce you the day after to-morrow. I can't do so before then, because I am establishing a little affair, and you might be in the way. Do you see, Harroway? Fine girl—noble spirit—and money doubtless."

Harroway laughed, and Sam donned a very becoming "Mufty," in spite of a positive order that no officer should appear in public, except in uniform. The colonel was a very tight hand; but he had grown tired of talking to Freeport about regimental matters, and in consequence, Sam enjoyed a much envied impunity. It was generally said of Freeport that he was the best fellow, but the worst officer in the British army.

With a complacent smile, Sam Freeport mounted the valuable grey of his obliging chum, Lieut. Harroway, who was worth some six thousand a year. Harroway's groom followed Sam on the chesnut, to the door of Mr. Newsham's house, where our hero dismounted. The girls, from the drawing-room windows, admired the beautiful creatures in the street, as they were led up and down by the groom.

Mr. Newsham had risen very early and prepared the power of attorney; but Sam said he had received letters from London, which would delay the execution till somebody or other's formal consent was obtained to his selling out his property in the stocks. The girls seemed glad to see Sam, and their mother greeted him very warmly. At the suggestion of Anne, the horses were sent round to the stable.

The time passed rapidly away, and it was now three o'clock. The girls were going to ride that evening, and Sam offered to escort them. His offer was accepted, and at four the cavalcade moved out of the old city. Anne Newsham, at Sam's special request, rode the grey, and he took the chesnut. As soon as they were outside the walls, Anne Newsham called out to her eldest sister, "Jessie, lead the way across country."

"Come along!" cried Jessie, and putting her horse at a ditch, she cleared it, and galloped across a long field, towards a five-barred gate in the corner. Jessie was followed by Jane and Maria. Anne wished to ride in company with Freeport, and "waited" on him. Sam was an extremely bad horseman in a field, and he funked the ditch; but he was ashamed to show his fear, and dashed at the leap like a man. The chesnut took it, but Sam came on the animal's shoulder. Anne "lifted" the grey over, and patted him on the neck as soon as the leap was cleared.

"Here's a pretty business," said Sam to himself as they approached the five-barred gate, and saw the other girls topping it. Anne again reined in to wait on Freeport. Sam curbed up the chesnut, and wouldn't let him take the gate; at the same time he called him "an obstinate rascal" for not doing so.

"He will follow me," cried Anne, and she put the grey over the gate with the most perfect ease imaginable.

"If I break my neck, here goes," muttered Sam. He gave the eager steed his head, and was in the next field instanter. Sam was very nearly off: but he explained this by saying that "the brute bucked it."

"I love a Buck Jumper," cried Anne, her cheeks glowing, and her eyes sparkling with excitement, as they galloped side by side—towards a hedge, which the other girls were making for.

"I'm blowed if I like any jumper at all," thought Sam, "and if I get safe out of this, you'll not catch me coming cross-country again."

The hedge was a teazer, and Anne wished to show Sam her style of riding. "Yohicks!" she cried, as the grey leapt with his light burden, and cleared it gallantly. The chesnut followed, Sam holding like grim death; but he was thrown, and with difficulty clung to the reins, and prevented the chesnut leaving him to walk. Anne Newsham roared with laughter, while she observed, "you are not much hurt."

"Yes I am though," responded Sam. "He stamped upon me." (This was not true, but Sam had had enough of jumping, and didn't feel inclined for any more.)

"Let us take to the road," suggested Sam.

"Very well," said Anne. "Get up—I'll show you the way."

Freeport got up, and they jogged on together. There was something very captivating about Anne Newsham's voice; and she was a great talker.

"I envy you this dear horse," said Anne, as she leapt him out of the field she had just leapt him into.

"Do you?" said Sam; "then he is yours."

"No, no, Captain Freeport. I would not deprive you of him."

"But you shall," urged Sam—"you shall give me yours in exchange."

"My horse is not so valuable a creature as this, but a very good one, and I love him dearly. No, no, Captain Freeport—keep your grey. If I should ask you to lend him to me for the next stag hunt I know you wont refuse."

"Refuse!" exclaimed Sam. "If you asked me to cut the throats of the pair of 'em I'd do it this moment."

"Are you sincere?" asked Anne.

"Sincere!" replied Sam. "Just pull up, and I'll get off and go down on my knees and swear it."

The other girls had left Sam and Anne a long way behind, and reached home half an hour before them. Sam made out that he was very much bruised, and set up all sorts of wry faces when he got into the house. He contrived, however, to eat a very hearty dinner, and to enjoy the walnuts which Anne cracked for him when they all drew their chairs round the fire, and Newsham filled the glasses with the choice Madeira.

Sam became warmed with the wine, he felt determined to effect an exchange by giving Anne the grey for her own riding horse. She declined hearing of such a thing at first, but inasmuch as he became importunate, she observed, "Well, Captain Freeport, as you insist on a swap, of course I can't hold out any longer. I'll send you Mazeppa to-morrow morning."

"Mazeppa! Why, that's the name of the grey," said Sam.

"How very odd!" ejaculated Anne and all her sisters.

Now, the horse's name was not Mazeppa, but Gaffer Grey; and under that name he had won several steeple chases; but it pleased Sam to have a coincidence at the sacrifice of fact.

It was nearly eleven o'clock before Sam Freeport returned to his quarters. Harroway was not there, and Sam smoked a solitary cheroot, and talked to Anne Newsham, in his imagination, preparatory to turning in for the night.

"I say, Sam—here's a very nice bit of horseflesh come here for you," said Harroway, next morning, shaking by the shoulder the sleeping Sam. "Where did you pick him up?"

"Bit of what?" said Sam, rubbing his eyes with his forefinger knuckles.

"Horseflesh."

"Oh, it's some mistake; it is not for me. What a fellow you are, to come and cruelly disturb a man in the middle of a delightful dream."

"How could I tell what you were dreaming about? By the bye, is it true that you put a lassie upon the grey yesterday, and that the grey bolted with her?"

This brought to Sam's recollection that the "bit of horseflesh" was intended for him. He looked Harroway full in the face, and then roared with laughter at his own thoughts.

"Is it a very nice animal that has come for me?" inquired Sam.

"Yes," replied Harroway; "a very nice animal indeed."

"What's his colour?"

"Bay, with black points."

"What's his height? Is he equal to my weight?"

"Yes. But you don't mean to say you have been such a fool as to buy a horse without seeing him—especially in Yorkshire?"

"I bought him on description."

"Then you deserve to be taken in."

"What's the animal worth?"

"Prom £85 to £100. What did you give for him?"

"More than that. By Jove! George, I am afraid we have been done."

"Don't say 'we,' Sam, for you can't call that horse a regimental purchase, you know."

"No," laughed Sam. "It's a regular individual stick, George. It can't be helped. There's no use in crying over spilt milk, is there?"

"No!—but what did you pay for him?"

"You say he is not worth more than £100."

"Not a stiver more."

"Then, by Jove, George, I am ashamed to tell you."

"Why?"

"Because you'll repeat it, and I'll get laughed at. I'll impart it in confidence, if you like,—on your giving me your word and honour as a gentleman you will never mention the transaction to a soul breathing."

"On my word and honour, Sam, I never will."

"Then, my dear George, for that little bit of horseflesh I swapped your grey to a girl——"

"The devil you did!" exclaimed Harroway, fearfully put out, for the horse had several engagements, and his sporting owner was very proud of him—"Then I'll be hanged, Sam, if I allow him to go."

"Oh; you must, George. Consider, my dear sub, your captain's honour is at stake. Would you have me ruined for the sake of a horse?"

"I declare, Freeport," said Harroway, emphatically, "that you are, without exception, the greatest fool in the kingdom, where women are concerned."

"It's all very true, George. But what can a man do—when a nice girl admires your horse, and pats it on the neck, and calls it a sweet creature."

"Why, let her admire it."

"But suppose you happen to know, she admires you, as well as the horse?"

"Never mind—stick to your property."

"But I can't, George."

"Then I wish to heaven you'd stick to other people's."

Freeport roared with laughter, and Harroway, in supreme disgust, walked up and down the room, muttering, "It serves me right!"

"What a flinty-hearted fellow you are, to be sure!" said Sam. "I don't think you know what a pleasing sensibility means! Come now, say candidly, had you ever a single tender emotion?"

The question made Harroway laugh, notwithstanding he was very much provoked.

"Look here!" said Sam, stretching forth his hand. "Put down the value of the grey against me in your pocket-book—value him at what you like. I shall marry an heiress one of these days, and then I'll pay you the amount, and you shall have interest at 8 per cent, out of my pay. You have got lots of money, and are always beating your brains to now how to invest it. You ought to look on this as a deuced lucky transaction. You never got such a high rate of interest in your life."

"Can't you get off the swap?"

"Wouldn't ask such a thing for the world—I'd rather pay you a thousand pounds for the horse."

"I hope the chesnut is safe," said Harroway, in a doubting tone.

"Quite. Let me see—yes—I stuck to the chesnut—that is to say——"

"What?"

"I didn't dispose of him, or swap him."

"Then you don't take him out any more—recollect that."

"No—I'll never trust myself again, George—I shall tell the girls I have sold you the chesnut because he bucked the hedge and spilt me."

"What do you mean, Sam?"

"Why the fact of the matter is this," began Sam—and he detailed all that took place on the day previous. Harroway, on hearing of his fall, was convulsed with laughter, and by the time Sam had finished, his sub's chagrin at losing Gaffer Grey was almost extinct. "Now then," ejaculated Sam; "I'll get up, have breakfast—and about half after twelve we will go together and visit the girls, George."