"It never pays
to make a fuss and bustle men. Softly does it."
"I'm thinking you can do it if any man can."
"I'll have a good try any way."
"Whereabouts does the Seigneur live?" he asked presently, and
inconsequently as it seemed, but following out a train of thought of his
own which needed no guessing at.
"The Seigneur? Over there in Sark--across the Coupee."
"What's the Coupee?"
"The Coupee?--Mon Gyu!"--at such colossal ignorance--"Why, ...the
Coupee's the Coupee.... Come along, then. Maybe you can get a look at it
before it's too dark."
They had got quite out of sound of the clanking engine, and were
travelling a well-made road, when their attention was drawn to a lively
struggle proceeding on the common between the road and the cliff.
Tom, setting out after the troubled Peter, had caught sight of the
Seigneur's white horse and had forthwith decided to take him home.
Peter, agreeing that it was a piece of neighbourliness which the
Seigneur would appreciate, had turned back to give his assistance.
By some cajolery they had managed to slip a halter with a special length
of rope over the wary white head, and there for the moment matters hung.
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