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"Another time," said Pen, who had been released, "we shall believe you." "But as I am not the master " replied Shandon. "Who says you mayn't be?" answered Pen. "John Hatteras may go as far as he likes, but we aren't obliged to follow him." "You all know what became of the crew that did follow him in his first cruise to Baffin's Sea?" said Gripper.
"And my prospectus," said Shandon, with a laugh and a sner; "do you consider that was a work of mathematical accuracy of statement?" "Pardon me, that is not the question," Pen said "and I don't think you very much care to argue it. I had some qualms of conscience about that same prospectus, and debated the matter with my friend Warrington.
Bungay had invited his party, and it was complete with the exception of two guests, who at last made their appearance, and in whom Pen was pleased to recognise Captain and Mrs. Shandon.
"He's here now. In bed. He stayed last night with me. Do you want to see him?" "Nothing urgent. I wanted to ask him if he wants to sell Endymion. Shandon wants to buy him back." Hume, riding furiously, pushed on through the forest, keeping a course parallel to the road, near enough to see any one who might be riding there, far enough to conceal his horse and himself behind a grove or ridge.
Shandon laughed now when she recounted the events of those old unhappy childish days, but Johnnie did not like the laughter. The girl always asked particularly for Mary Dickey, her admirers, her clothes, her good times. "No wonder she acts as if there wasn't anybody else on earth but her!" would be Shandon's dry comment.
Big Bill, acting foreman now, took upon himself the unremitting work of making the racehorse fit. Nearly as good a man as Shandon with animals, he continued through the winter the task that had been little more than begun.
Shandon nodded, swallowed and bade Garth a cheery "Good morning." "To-day?" he repeated after his cousin. "I'm just going to get a live horse between my legs and ride! Big Bill tells me that no man has thrown a leg over Lightfoot's back since I left, and that she's just full of hell and mustard and aching for a scamper.
"Because the editor was born at Dublin, the sub-editor at Cork, because the proprietor lives in Paternoster Row; and the paper is published in Catherine Street, Strand. Won't that reason suffice you, Wagg?" Shandon said; he was getting rather angry. "Everything must have a name. My dog Ponto has got a namee. You've got a name, and a name which you deserve, more or less, indeed.
Richard Shandon, in his secret heart, hoped that the command would remain with him, and that at the last moment he should receive precise instructions as to the destination of the Forward.
His fancy was caught by numerous and attractive illustrations in a volume dealing with the mythology of the ancients, and he was soon convinced that he was acquiring a scholarly knowledge of the history of the old Greeks and Romans. Wayne Shandon was distinctly surprised the next morning as he entered the corral to encounter Sledge Hume sitting a sweating horse and evidently in wait for him.
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