Part 35 (2/2)
Suddenly, a loud booming noise came from one of the enclosures. All looked in that direction. The great ostrich was plainly visible, his neck inflated to six times its size as he emitted his deep call, volleying it out in heavy booms, three at a time.
”Fancy an ostrich making such a row as that! You wouldn't have thought it possible, would you, Miss Strange?” said Gough, the tutor. He had joined the party at dinner-time, when school was over.
”I don't think I should,” answered Lilian. ”The first time I heard it, I was so frightened. It was at Seringa Vale. I was lying awake at night, and this great booming sounded so awful in the dead of night. I hadn't a notion what it was; the first thing I thought of was some wild beast.”
”A lion, I suppose,” said Naylor.
”I think the whole of the Zoological Gardens ran through my vivid imagination. How Mr Brathwaite laughed when I told him about it next morning! Yet I was terribly frightened.”
”No wonder,” said Claverton. ”It's a precious uncanny sort of row to strike up in the middle of the night, especially when you don't know where it comes from, or what it's all about.”
It was now voted time to be getting the horses in. This served as a signal for a general break-up, the masculine element of the party making towards the stable, or the enclosure, where some manoeuvring was needed, as we have seen, to obtain possession of the requisite steeds without exciting the wrath of the autocratic biped who reigned there.
Claverton having, as before, submitted Lilian's steed and its gear to a rigid examination, now whisking a speck of dust off the saddle, or letting down a link of the curb-chain and readjusting it, a.s.sisted her to mount.
”Wish that fool would go on,” he muttered savagely, referring to Allen, whose ancient screw was mooning along with a kind of crop-the-gra.s.s gait. The rest of the party were on ahead. ”He needn't wait for us,”
and flinging himself on his spirited chestnut he bade the groom let go the reins. The fine animal tossed his head and sidled and champed his bit as he felt himself free; free yet not free, for his rider was a consummate horseman and had him perfectly in hand.
Lilian laughed. ”Poor fellow,” she said. ”Do you know, I sometimes feel so sorry for him. You all chaff him dreadfully and--Oh!”
The last exclamation is one of alarm, for at that moment a troop of ostriches--young ten-month-old birds--having deserted its herd in one of those stampedes to which these idiotic bipeds are so liable, whirls past them, with wings outstretched and snowy plumes sparkling in the sun, and Lilian's steed, which has not yet become quite accustomed to the gigantic fowls, shows signs of restiveness.
”Don't be frightened--darling. You're quite safe,” says her escort, noting the scared look in her face, as the old horse tugs at his bridle and snorts and plunges a little. ”He'll be perfectly quiet in half a minute.”
He is so close beside her all the time, and speaks in such a rea.s.suring tone that her alarm subsides, and the old steed drops into his normal steadiness as though half ashamed of himself.
”Are you not utterly disgusted with such a coward?” says she, with a faint apologetic laugh. ”I ought to have enjoyed the affair as a good opportunity for showing off, oughtn't I?”
”One must show on before showing off. I wouldn't have you anything but timid on board a horse for the world, except for your own sake. It suits you to perfection.”
He is in earnest. These oft-recurring little alarms of hers are so captivating in their pure unaffectedness, so womanly; and, withal, the sense of protection imparted to himself is delicious. And if she is at times somewhat shrinking, as at present, even that lends an additional attraction to her delicate refinement.
”Every one is not an Amazon, thank heaven,” he continued, ”and you will soon be as much at home on horseback as in a chair. We will have a lot of practice. Besides, you know, lately you have not been very well, and that is calculated to unnerve you. We will do our best to set you up thoroughly--while--you are here.” He tried to speak firmly, but it was of no use, that tell-tale tremor shook his voice over the last four words, for they conjured up a picture of when she should be no longer ”here,” and he dared not think of it. At present he would thrust the thought far from him.
They had now overtaken Allen, and were obliged to shape the conversation accordingly. ”Shall we canter on a little?” suggested Claverton. ”The rest are a good way ahead.”
Lilian acquiesced, and their steeds bounded along the gra.s.sy slopes at an easy elastic canter, but Allen's sorry screw finding a difficulty in keeping pace with the long stride of the well-bred horses, that disconsolate youth soon dropped behind.
”Here is our panorama again,” said Claverton, reining in on the top of the hill, whence they had enjoyed the view that morning.
”It looks different already. This golden light sheds a rare peacefulness--an evening repose--upon it, which is perfectly enchanting.
It is hard to determine, but of the two I think I preferred it this morning. There was an exhilaration in the very air that made one feel the pleasure of merely living.”
”I liked it best this morning, too,” he answered gravely. Then all the day was before him--so many hours with _her_. Now they had come--never to return.
VOLUME ONE, CHAPTER TWENTY ONE.
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