The Gentleman | Page 3

saw nothing but the brown street
sliding under him, a pair of sweating ears, a flapping mane, and before
him a tumble of old roofs; while beyond in the harbour, the spars of a
sloop of war pricked the evening.
Clear of the little town huddling on the hillside, he drove along the
bank of the slow green river, flogging still.
One thing was clear: the grey was dead-beat.
He was roaring like a furnace, and straight as a rail from tail to muzzle.
Black and white with sweat, he jerked along at a terrible toppling
stagger. Only those vice-like legs and hands plucking, plucking, kept
body and soul together.
Where the river widened, and the sea gleamed misty across the
harbour-mouth, as though he knew his mission was fulfilled, up went
his head, and he fell in thundering ruin.
Where he fell he lay, lank-necked.
The tail twitched once; the body trembled; the great heart broke.

CHAPTER II
THE GALLOPING GENT
I

A boat had just put off from the bank, a tall lad steering. The great red
horseman, strangely active for so huge a man, flung himself clear of his
horse, snatched a pistol from a holster, and came floundering down the
cobbled river-bank, his coat-tails floating.
"Put back, sir!" he bellowed in husky fury. "Put back, my God! or I'll
fire."
He was standing, the water to his tops, with heaving shoulders.
"Don't shout; don't shoot; and don't swear," replied a voice, pure as a
lady's. "And perhaps I'll oblige."
The boy edged the boat into the bank. The huge fellow, in too great a
hurry to wait, floundered out, clutched her by the stern, and scrambled
in.
"My God, sir!" he panted, thrusting a dripping face into the boy's.
"D'you know who you're a-talking to?--I'm a ridin-officer on
Government business."
"And d'you know who _you're_ a-talkin to?" replied the boy, cold as
the other was hot. "I'm a King's officer on King's business. Remove
your face, please. Sit down. And don't shake so, or you'll spill us.--I'm a
midshipman going aboard my ship."
"Then you're just in time for warm work, Mr. Milkshipman," panted the
other.
He bumped down on the thwart opposite the waterman, and thrust at
the oars.
"Row, man, row!" he urged. "The Gallopin Gent's got through."
II
The colour of apple-blossom, coming and going in the lad's cheek, died
away, and left him pale.

He was a splendid stripling, sun in his hair, sun in his eyes; with
something of the lank grace of the fawn about him.
The face was fine almost to haggardness; with long chin, delicate nose,
and eager eyes, very shy.
The boy had broken through the chrysalis of childhood, and not yet
emerged into the fighting male. There was no down on his chin; the
radiance of his cheek was yet undimmed. The soul, rosy behind its
clouds, still tinged them with dawn-lights.
He was a Boy, sparkling Boy; Boy at the age when he is Woman, and
Woman at her best, the playfellow, the tease, the inspiration; free of
limb, as yet untrammelled of mind; with passionate hatreds and heroic
adorations.
He was steering now, his eyes on the battered topsails in the mists
before him; and in those eyes a glitter of swords. Had his mother or
Gwen been there, they could have told from that frosty calm, those
jealous-drooping lids, that Master Boy meant mischief.
And so it was.
This fat fellow with the heaving shoulders on the thwart before him,
this chap with the crease across his bald neck, and the black sweat
trickling from his hair, had insulted him.
As woman, he was bent upon revenge; as man, he would go warily,
striking only to strike home.
"That was a fine horse you flogged to death," he began tranquilly,
trailing his fingers in the dead green waters.
"Yes, sir," panted the other, thrusting at the oars. "I don't spare spur
when I'm ridin agin the French. I'm a man, and an Englishman--not a
pink-faced, girl-eyed booby togged out in a cocked hat and a tin dagger,
calling meself a King's officer."

"I guessed that you were not one of us," replied the boy delicately.
"Your manners are too distinguished. But tell me a little more about
your ride. You seemed in rather a hurry. I take it you were riding for a
drink."
The great man swung round. His whole life seemed to have stopped
short, and now hung behind his eyes--an appalling shadow.
For one swift moment the boy thought he would be struck.
Then the big man spoke; and his voice was measured and very still.
"If you think I burst the gamest eart that ever beat in an orse's ide for a
drink, why then, sir," with crushing simplicity, "you think