rt had no reason, or thought he had
not, for doubting his assertion, and readily believed that it was only
the coachman's doubt of his horsemanship that had given rise to the
fears he expressed.

"How long has your father owned Bucephalus?" inquired Gilbert.

"Only three months."

"Who rides him?"

"Neither of us, much. The fact is, Sidney is father's horse, and this
is mine. We don't need Bucephalus, but father took him for a debt, and
means to sell him when he has a good opportunity."

This was true. Bucephalus had been taken for a debt, and as, on account
of his ill-temper, he was of no use to Mr. Grey, he proposed to dispose
of him at the first favorable opportunity.

"You ride well," said Jasper, after a pause. "Have you ridden much?"

"Considerably," answered Gilbert, modestly.

Had he not been so modest he might have added that his teacher had
pronounced him the best rider he had ever taught. But Gilbert was no
boaster, and, therefore, Jasper remained in ignorance of his really
superior horsemanship.

"You don't seem to find any trouble in managing him. I wish John could
see you ride. He would see how foolish he was in being afraid for you."

Gilbert was only human, and the compliment pleased him. He knew he was
a good rider, and though he was not willing to boast of it, he liked to
have it appreciated by others. He could not read the unspoken thought
that was passing through his cousin's mind.

"He does well enough now," thought Jasper; "but wait till Bucephalus
wakes up. Then he will be like a child in his grasp. I wouldn't like to
be in his shoes then."

Yet to this danger from which he himself shrank in dread he had exposed
his cousin, when he could easily have saved him from it. It was proof
of his cold and selfish wickedness that he could do this without being
visited by reproaches of conscience.

For several miles Bucephalus behaved unusually well. But at length he
began to show signs of the insubordinate spirit that possessed him.
They came to a turn in the road; Jasper took the turn, but Bucephalus
preferred to go straight on. He shook his head viciously, and snorted
defiantly.

"It's coming," thought Jasper, and for the first time he did feel a
little pity for his companion.

"Won't he turn?" he asked.

"He don't want to, but he will," said Gilbert, coolly.

He pulled the right rein in a firm, decided way. Bucephalus reared, and
began to dance round.

"Is that your game?" said Gi