Draw Swords! Part 4

"I can't say," said d.i.c.k merrily. "But, let's see; sixty and twelve are seventy-two--would you mind waiting?"

"Ahem!" said Wyatt, clearing his throat; "five hundred pounds for you to draw upon. You can easily afford a good horse out of that."

"Of course; it was meant for the purpose."

"Then let's go and see Hulton at once, and hear what he says."

The uniform was quickly put away, d.i.c.k's native servant being summoned; and then the two officers crossed the parade-ground to Captain Hulton's quarters, where that quiet, thoughtful-looking personage gave d.i.c.k a friendly nod, and proceeded to chat over the subject in a very decisive manner after Wyatt had opened it and had not omitted to allude to Aunt Kate's money.

"What do you say about Morrison's Arab?" he said after a while.

"What! for our young friend here?"

"Yes."

"Decidedly no!--There is no hurry, Darrell, and you need not be too eager about spending your money. Let it rest till a good, quiet, fast mount turns up--one that would suit you. Poor Morrison's Arab is only fit for a rough-rider. We'll find you something for the present-- something that will not want much riding."

"Very well, sir," said d.i.c.k quietly; "you know best."

"Well, I think so, Darrell," said Captain Hulton, smiling. "When you have been out here ten years with the troop you will have had my experience. You do ride a little?"

"Yes, sir."

"But not our way, of course. Done a little hunting at home, I suppose?"

"Yes, a little; but my father never encouraged me in it."

"Of course not. Well, I'm glad you have joined, Darrell, and we will do our best to make you like the troop; but I'm afraid you will find our drill a bit rough, for we stand first as smart troop, and we have to work hard to keep our position.--I'm busy, Wyatt; so you must take Darrell round and show him the men, horses, and guns."

"Right," said Wyatt.--"Come along, d.i.c.k, my lad."

"I wish he wasn't so fond of d.i.c.king me," thought the boy; "but I suppose it's his way."

CHAPTER FOUR.

SUCH A BOY!

Wyatt performed his task thoroughly,

"You shall see the guns first," he said: and he marched his new brother-officer across to the gun-shed, where a smart, six-foot gunner in undress uniform drew himself up to salute as they pa.s.sed to where the light six-pounders stood in an exact line, with their limbers and ammunition-boxes, rammers, sponges, and trails--the very perfection of neatness, and everything that would bear a polish s.h.i.+ning like a gem.

On the walls were rockets in racks, and stands for their discharge were close at hand; while spare wheels and tackle of every kind possible to be wanted, and beautifully clean, took d.i.c.k's attention, showing, as they did, the perfect management over all.

"Now for the stables," said Wyatt. "Better be on your guard, for some of the horses are rather playful with their heels."

d.i.c.k nodded, and followed his conductor into the plainest and cleanest stable he had ever seen. Here they came upon several syces or grooms, whose task it was to give the horses' coats the satin-like gloss they displayed; for the drivers and gunners of the Honourable Company's corps were far too great men to run down their own horses, or do much more than superintend the cleaning of their own accoutrements.

"It's different to being at home," said Wyatt laughingly; "and we want the men to fight, not for grooms and servants. They're a bit spoiled, but the n.i.g.g.e.rs are plentiful, and we let them do the work."

d.i.c.k had seen the stables at a cavalry barracks once, and admired the horses; but these were nothing to the beautiful, sleek creatures he saw here. Wild-looking, large-eyed, abundant of mane and tail, perfect beauties without exception, but certainly playful as the lieutenant had said, the entrance of the visitors seeming to be the signal for the long line to begin tossing their heads, rattling their halters, and turning their beautiful arched necks to gaze at the new-comers before snorting, squealing, and making ineffectual attempts to bite at their fellows-- ineffectual, for they could not reach them.

"What do you think of them?" said Wyatt, smiling at his companion's display of excited appreciation. "Will they do?"

"Do!" cried d.i.c.k enthusiastically; "why, there isn't one that would not make a magnificent charger."

"Bating temper, you're quite right. Arab stallions, every one. But you've seen them before."

"Only once, at a distance, and then they were going fast."

"Yes, we do go pretty fast," said Wyatt quietly; "the men on the limbers have to sit pretty tight in their leather slings. Seen enough?"

"No," cried d.i.c.k; "one could never see enough of such horses as these."

"That's right, young one," said Wyatt approvingly. "Well, you'll see enough of them now. We'll walk down to the other end, and go out of the other door."

d.i.c.k followed his companion unwillingly, for the desire was on him to go and pat and handle several of the beautiful creatures.

"No, no," said Wyatt, stopping him; "it's rather too risky; some of them are likely to be nasty with strangers. You see, so long as a horse is a good one we don't study much about his character."

"Nor yet about the characters of the men," said d.i.c.k dryly.

"That's so. We want men--perfect men--sound in wind and limb; and as to the men's characters, well, they're obliged to behave well. They know that, and they do. Come and see them."

This was the most crucial part of the business to d.i.c.k. The horses, as they turned their beautiful eyes upon him and shook their manes, seemed one and all to be gazing at him with a kind of sovereign contempt. But then they were horses--dumb animals, and did not matter; but the men-- what would they think?

He felt younger, slighter, and more boyish than ever as he crossed the parade-ground towards the barracks, and involuntarily drew himself up, frowned, and strode more heavily, unconscious of the fact that his conductor was looking slyly down at him from the corner of his left eye, enjoying the boy's effort to look more manly. Then his face turned grave, and he laid his hand upon the lad's arm.

"Don't do that, d.i.c.k," he said.

"Don't do what?" cried the boy flus.h.i.+ng guiltily.

"Don't be a sham. It will make a bad impression on the men."

d.i.c.k stopped short, and looked half angrily at his brother-officer.

"I'm speaking seriously, lad," said Wyatt, "to my brother-officer. You see, d.i.c.k, you are only a boy yet, and there's nothing to be ashamed of in that. Be proud of being a boy till nature turns you into a man, and then be a man."

"I don't quite understand you, sir," said d.i.c.k.

"Yes, you do; and now you're being a sham with me while I'm trying to keep you from being a sham with the men, who would see it directly, and laugh at it as soon as our backs are turned. I say, young un, don't you know that a good boy is far better than a bad man?"

"A good boy!" said d.i.c.k, with his lip curling. "You speak to me as if I were a child. You'll be calling me a naughty boy next."

"What a young fire-eater you are!" said Wyatt good-humouredly. "I didn't mean a good boy, the opposite of a naughty boy. You know well enough what I mean--a boy who is a boy, a frank brick of a boy who acts up to what he really is--not one of your affected imitation men, young apes, puppies who are ashamed of being boys--young idiots. Look here, young un; I took to you last night because you were frank and straightforward, and behaved as if you knew that you were only a boy."

"Well, I do know it, of course; but I don't want people to be always throwing it in my teeth."