Luck and Pluck. Alger Horatio Jr.
Читать онлайн книгу.
he's got to get used to me," said Ben. "If he don't behave well it will be the worse for him. You haven't given me the whip."
"You'd better not use it much, Master Ben. He won't stand a whip very well."
"Keep your advice till it is asked for," said Ben.
"All right, sir," said Mike, and handed him the whip. He followed him with his eyes as he rode out of the yard. "He don't sit like Master John. It wouldn't take much to throw him off. However, I've warned him, and he must have his own way if he breaks his neck."
Although Ben had spurned Mike's warning with so much disdain, he thought of it as he rode up the street, and let Prince take his own gait. The truth was, he did not feel very secure in his seat, and did not feel very much confidence in his own horsemanship. Indeed, he would not have cared to ride out this afternoon, but for the anticipated pleasure of mortifying John.
He rode leisurely along, taking the direction of the academy, which was nearly a mile distant. He looked at his watch, and estimated that he would meet the pupils of the academy as they emerged from school.
He was right in his reckoning. At precisely four o'clock there was a bustle about the doors, and with merry shouts the boys poured out into the street. Among them were John Oakley and Sam Selwyn, who, as intimate friends and classmates, generally were found in company. They turned up the street which led by Mr. Selwyn's office, and in the direction of John Oakley's home.
"John," said Sam, suddenly, "I do believe that is Ben Brayton riding on your horse."
John looked up the street, and saw that Sam was right.
"You are right, Sam," he said.
"Did you tell him he might ride on it?"
"No."
"Then what business has he with it?"
"His mother told him he might take it. She has taken it from me."
"She's an old—"
"Don't call names, Sam. I'll tell you more about it another time."
Meanwhile Ben had seen the boys coming from the academy. Among others he recognized John and Sam, and his eyes flashed with anticipated triumph. Hitherto he had been content to let the horse go on at his own rate, but now he thought it was time to make a display. He thought it would annoy John to have him dash by at gallant speed, while he, the rightful owner, was obliged to stand out of the path, unable to interfere. He therefore brought the whip down with considerable emphasis upon Prince's side. Unfortunately he had not foreseen the consequences of the blow. Prince took the bit between his teeth, and darted forward with reckless speed, while Ben, seeing his mistake too late, pale and terrified, threw his arms around the horse's neck, and tried to keep his seat.
John started forward, also in alarm, for though he had no reason to like Ben, he did not want him to be hurt, and called "Prince!"
The horse recognized his master's voice, and stopped suddenly,—so suddenly that Ben was thrown off, and landed in a puddle of standing water in a gully by the side of the road. Prince stopped quietly for his master to come up.
"Are you hurt, Ben?" asked John, hurrying up.
Ben rose from the puddle in sorry plight. He was only a little bruised, but he was drenched from head to foot with dirty water, and patches of yellow mud adhered to his clothes.
"You did this!" he said, furiously to John.
"You are entirely mistaken. I hope you are not hurt," said John, calmly.
"You frightened the horse on purpose."
"That's a lie, Ben," said Sam, indignantly. "It's a lie, and you know it."
"I understand it all. You don't deceive me," said Ben, doggedly.
"Will you ride home?" asked John.
Ben refused. In fact, he was afraid to trust himself again on Prince's back.
"Then I suppose I must." And John sprang lightly upon the horse's back, and rode towards home, followed by Ben in his soiled clothes.
Mrs. Oakley, looking from her window, beheld, with wondering anger, John riding into the yard, and her son following in his soiled clothes.
"What's he been doing to Ben?" she thought, and hurried downstairs in a furious rage.
CHAPTER V.
BEN IS COMFORTED
"What have you been doing to my son, you young reprobate?" demanded Mrs. Oakley of John. Her hands trembled convulsively with passion, as if she would like to get hold of our hero, and avenge Ben's wrongs by inflicting punishment on the spot.
John was silent.
"Why don't you speak, you young rascal?" demanded Mrs. Oakley, furiously.
"I am neither a reprobate nor a rascal, Mrs. Oakley," said John, calmly, "and I do not choose to answer when addressed in that way."
"Ben," said Mrs. Oakley, turning to her son, "what has he done to you? How happens it that you come home in such a plight?"
"I was thrown over the horse's head into a mud-puddle," said Ben.
"Didn't he have anything to do with it?" asked Mrs. Oakley, determined to connect John with Ben's misfortune, if possible.
"He spoke to the horse," said Ben.
"And then he threw you?"
"Yes."
Ben answered thus, being perfectly willing that his mother should charge his fall upon John, as this would create additional prejudice between them. It was contemptible meanness on his part, but meanness was characteristic of him, and he had no hesitation in stooping to falsehood, direct or indirect, if by so doing he could compass his object.
"It is as I thought," said Mrs. Oakley, thinking it unnecessary to inquire further. "Of course, as soon as you were thrown, he jumped on the horse and rode home. You're carrying matters with a high hand, young man; but you'll find that I'm your match. Get off that horse, directly."
"That was my intention," said John. "I am sorry, Mrs. Oakley," he continued, "that Ben has not seen fit to give you a correct account of what has happened. If he had, it would have been unnecessary for me to speak."
"It is unnecessary for you to speak now, John Oakley," said his stepmother, sharply. "Do you mean to charge my son with telling a falsehood? If that is the case, take care what you say."
"Ben has not told a falsehood, but he is trying to make you believe that I caused his fall."
"I have no doubt you did."
"Then you are mistaken. Why didn't he tell you that when I first saw the horse he was running at great speed, in consequence of Ben's having imprudently struck him severely with the whip? He is a spirited horse, and won't stand the whip."
"He is like you in that, I suppose," said Mrs. Oakley, sneering.
"He is like me in that," said John, quietly.
"You would both be better if you had to stand it," said his stepmother, angrily.
John did not see fit to reply to this.
"Is this true, Ben?" she asked.
"Yes," said Ben, reluctantly. "I struck the horse; but it was not till John spoke to him that he threw me off."
"So I supposed," said Mrs. Oakley, significantly.
"I see, Mrs. Oakley," said John, "you are determined to find me guilty of causing Ben's fall. If I could be mean enough to do such a thing, and so risk his life, I should despise myself. Prince was rushing up the street with tremendous speed, and I was frightened at Ben's danger; I called out to Prince, but he stopped so suddenly that Ben was thrown into the puddle, or he might have been seriously hurt."
There was so much sincerity in what John said, that Mrs. Oakley, though very much against her will, could hardly help believing him. Determined, however, to make out a case against him, she said:—
"As soon as you saw him off, you jumped on the horse and rode home, leaving him to get home