elp:

"Nic hasn't had time to practise much; he'll be a better rider next time
he comes down to the front."

"That's right," cried Lady O'Hara. "There: goodbye, and bless you, my
boy! Give my dear love to your mother, and tell her I shall want to
steal you for a visit first time I come."

"I shall not be able to spare him," said the doctor, who had mounted,
and now held the rein of the second horse. "Come, Nic, boy, up with
you."

Nic nervously raised his foot to the stirrup, made a desperate spring as
he clung to the pommel and cantle of the saddle, and somehow came down
in his seat; but the horse started, and nearly threw him on to its neck.

"Steady!" cried the doctor sharply, as he held the rein firmly; and,
nervous and startled, Nic shuffled back and nipped the saddle with all
the force of which his knees were capable.

"Are you all right, boy?" cried the governor.

"Yes, sir," said Nic, as firmly as he could, though he was wondering how
long it would be before he was all wrong.

"Good-bye, O'Hara," cried the doctor. "You will hear from me when I get
home."

"Good-bye," cried the governor; and, leaning toward his old friend, he
whispered:

"I'd take care: that boy can't ride a bit."

"I know," said the doctor. "Don't let him see that you do. Good-bye."

He touched his horse's sides, and the beautiful beast started to go off
at a canter, but was checked instantly, to keep it in a walk, with the
result that it began to fret and dance. Nic's lighter steed followed
suit, and the boy's position grew moment by moment more desperate. Now
he lost one stirrup, then the other; and it was only by getting a good
grip of the pommel with one hand that he was able to stay on.

Finally, though, the horses were quieted down, and paced together in a
walk, when the doctor said quietly:

"Why, Nic, it's a good thing that it is still dark. I'm afraid we
should have had some remarks made if people had been about."

"I--I never said I could ride, father," said Nic, in a reproachful tone.

"I'm glad you did not, boy. It's a good thing that you have no spurs."

"Is it, father?"

"Of course," cried the doctor; "if you had, Sour Sorrel would have soon
pitched you off."

"I'm very sorry, father," faltered Nic, who felt very miserable as well
as uncomfortable. "Had I better get down and lead him?"

"If you feel so much afraid that you dare not stop on, my boy," said the
doctor drily.

The dawn was coming,