Crimmins shifted the cud again to hide his astonishment at Garrison's sudden _savoir-faire_.
“She's wicked, sir. Bought for the missus, but she ain't broken yet.”
“She hasn't been handled right. Her mouth's hard, but her temper's even. I'll ride her,” said Garrison shortly.
“No, I won't. Saddle her. Hurry up. Shorten the stirrup. There, that's right. Stand clear.”
Crimmins eyed Garrison narrowly as he mounted. He was quite prepared to run with a clothes-basket to pick up the remains. But Garrison was up like a feather, high on the filly's neck, his shoulders hunched. The minute he felt the saddle between his knees he was at home again after a long, long absence. He had come into his birthright.
The filly quivered for a moment, laid back her ears, and then was off.
“Cripes!” ejaculated the veracious Crimmins, as wide-eyed he watched the filly fling gravel down the drove, “'e's got a seat like Billy Garrison himself. 'E can ride, that kid. An' 'e knows 'orse-flesh. Blimy if 'e don't! If Garrison weren't down an' out I'd be ready to tyke my Alfred David it were 'is bloomin' self. An' I thought 'e was a dub! Ho, yuss--me!”
Moralizing on the deceptiveness of appearances, Crimmins fortified himself with another slab of cut-plug.
Miss Desha, up on a big bay gelding with white stockings, was waiting on the Logan Pike, where the driveway of Calvert House swept into it.
“Do you know that you're riding Midge, and that she's a hard case?” she said ironically, as they cantered off together. “I'll bet you're thrown. Is she the horse the major reserved for you? Surely not.”
“No,” said Garrison plaintively, “they picked me out a cow--a nice, amiable cow; speedy as a traction-engine, and with as much action. This is a little better.”
The girl was silent, eyeing him steadily through narrowed lids.
“Um-m-m,” said Garrison; “why, yes, I suppose so.” He laughed in sudden joy. “It feels so good,” he confided.
“You remind me of a person in a dream,” she said, after a little, still watching him closely. “Nothing seems real to you--your past, I mean. You only think you have done this and that.”
“Come on, I'll race you,” she cried suddenly. “To that big poplar down there. See it? About two furlongs. I'll give you twenty yards' start. Don't fall off.”
