Leger, strolls out to ogle Stanwix--"
Dorothy turned her horse sharply, saluted Sir George, and galloped away
towards her father, who had halted at the cross-roads to wait for us.
"Good-bye, Sir George," I said, offering my hand. He took it in a firm,
steady clasp.
"A safe journey, Ormond. I trust fortune may see fit to throw us
together in this coming campaign."
I bowed, turned bridle, and cantered off, leaving him standing in the
road before his gayly painted pleasure-house, an empty wine-cup in
his hand.
"Damnation, George!" bawled Sir Lupus, as I rode up, "have we all day to
stand nosing one another and trading gossip! Some of us must ride by
Fonda's Bush, or Broadalbin, whatever the Scotch loons call it; and I'll
say plainly that I have no stomach for it; I want my dinner!"
"It will give me pleasure to go," said I, "but I require a guide."
"Peter shall ride with you," began Sir Lupus; but Dorothy broke in,
impatiently:
"He need not. I shall guide Mr. Ormond to Broadalbin."
"Oh no, you won't!" snapped the patroon; "you've done enough of
forest-running for one day. Peter, pilot Mr. Ormond to the Bush."
And he galloped on ahead, followed by Cato and Peter; so that, by reason
of their dust, which we did not choose to choke in, Dorothy and I
slackened our pace and fell behind.
Pages:
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163