Why
didn't you call us, you old duffer?"
"I did--but I couldn't make you hear," said Norah, somewhat injured.
"Hurry--I've saddled up."
"You have? You didn't saddle Monarch?" asked Jim quickly.
"Yes, he's all ready, and the valises are on. We're in for a ducking,
anyway, don't you think, Jim?"
"I think you hadn't any business to saddle Monarch," Jim said, soberly.
"I wish you wouldn't do those things, Norah."
"Oh, it was all right." She smiled down at him. "He was only a bit
fidgety; I believe he's frightened of the weather, Jim." She looked
across at Cecil, seeing that young gentleman, wonderful to relate, with
his stock folded awry, and his hair in wild confusion. "Do you mind
thunderstorms, Cecil?"
"I--don't care for them much," Cecil panted. Running evidently did not
agree with him, and he was finding his tweed riding suit very unfitted
for the heat of the day. Jim, jogging easily, clad in white silk shirt,
cord breeches and leggings, looked at him pityingly.
"Carry your coat, Cecil?" he sang out.
"No, thank you. I'd rather wear it," said Cecil, who disapproved of
being coatless at any time, and had looked with marked disfavour at Jim
and Wally as they set off in the morning.
"Stupid donkey!" Jim muttered, under his breath. "Ah, there are the
horses!"
He made for Betty at once, and tossed the breathless Cecil into her
saddle, advising him to ride on quickly.
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