Part 21 (2/2)
”I say, West!” cried Bayfield. ”That old ram we drove over you the other day has come to a bad end at last. Blachland's knocked him over.”
”Oh, well done, Hilary, old chap. I suppose you've had a great time with big game, eh? Shocked over no end of lions and elephants, and all that sort of thing?”
”A few, yes,” answered the other, rising, for a signal for a move had been given.
A few minutes of filling up cartridge-belts and fastening _reims_ to saddles, and other preparations, and the sporting party was ready.
”Good luck, father. Good luck, Mr Blachland,” said Lyn, as she stood watching them start.
”That ought to bring it,” answered the latter, as he swung himself into his saddle. But Hermia was not among those who were outside. Percival, who had been, had dived inside again Blachland did not fail to notice.
He emerged in a moment, however, looking radiantly happy and br.i.m.m.i.n.g over with light-hearted spirits.
”Now, Hilary, old chap, we can have a yarn,” he said, as they started, for the others had the start of them by a hundred yards or so. ”So you're stopping with Bayfield? If only I'd known that, wouldn't I have been over to look you up. Good chap Bayfield. Nice little girl of his too, but--not much in her, I fancy.”
”There you're wrong, Percy. There's a great deal in her. But--how did you fall in with Earle?”
”Knew him through another Johnny I was thick with on board s.h.i.+p, and he asked me over to his place. Had a ripping good time here, too. I say, what d'you think of that Mrs Fenham? Fancy a splendid woman like that spending life hammering a lot of unlicked cubs into shape. Isn't it sinful?”
”Why didn't you say you were coming out, Percy? Drop a line or something?” went on his relative, feeling unaccountably nauseated by what he termed to himself the boy's brainless rattle.
”Drop a line! Why, that's just where the joke comes in! We none of us knew where on earth you were exactly. In point of fact, I came over here to find you, and by George I have! Never expected to find you so easily, though.”
”Nothing wrong, eh?”
”No. But Uncle Luke is dying to see you again. He said I must be sure and bring you back with me.”
The other looked surprised. Then his face softened very perceptibly.
”Is that a fact, Percy? Why, I thought he never wanted to set eyes on me again as long as he lived.”
”Then you thought jolly well wrong. He does. So you must just make up your mind to go home when I do.”
”Why are you so keen on it, Percy? Why, man, it might be immeasurably to your advantage if I never went back at all.”
”Look here, Hilary, if you really mean that, I'm not a beastly cad yet.”
”Well, I don't really mean it,” said the other, touched by the young fellow's chivalrous single-heartedness. ”Perhaps we may bring off your scheme all right. I would like to see the dear old chap again. I must have treated him very shabbily. And the old Canon--is he still to the fore?”
”Rather, and as nailing good an old sort as ever. He wants to see you again too--almost as much as Uncle Luke does.”
”Ah, he always was a straight 'un--not an ounce of shoddy or humbug about him--”
”Come on, you fellows, or we'll never get to work,” shouted Earle's voice, now very far ahead of them.
And leaving their home talk and reminiscences for the present, they spurred on their steeds--to join the rest of the party.
CHAPTER SEVEN.
<script>