Sponge, with a shake of his
head, as he watched Pacey's movements.
'The beggar thinks he can ride anything,' observed Jack.
'He'll find his mistake out just now,' replied Sponge.
Presently the stable-door opened, and the horse stepped slowly and quietly
out, looking blooming and bright after his previous day's gallop. Pacey,
running his eyes over his clean muscular legs and finely shaped form,
thought he hadn't done so far amiss after all. Leather stood at the horse's
head, whistling and soothing him, feeling anything but the easy confidence
that Mr. Pacey exhibited. Putting his whip under his arm, Pacey just walked
up to the horse, and, placing the point of his foot in the stirrup, hoisted
himself on by the mane, without deigning to take hold of the reins. Having
soused himself into the saddle, he then began feeling the stirrups.
'How are they for length, sir?' asked Leather, with a hitch of his hand to
his forehead.
'They'll do,' replied Pacey, in a tone of indifference, gathering up the
reins, and applying his left heel to the horse's side, while he gave him a
touch of the whip on the other.
Pages:
583
584
585
586
587
588
589
590
591
592
593
594
595
596
597
598
599
600
601
602
603
604
605
606
607