However Richard Darrell might have felt when held by the elephant, he certainly was conscious of being uncomfortable now, for it was long since he had mounted a beast of any kind; and he was to take his seat upon a big, highly-trained trooper, in the presence of a man who was without doubt a magnificent horseman, as well as under the eye of one who acted as riding-master of the troop.

The place looked gloomy in the early morning—quite in accordance with the lad’s feelings—while as soon as he passed through the doorway, which had been made high enough to allow for the passage of mounted men, he was conscious of being in the presence of his mount—a big, restive-looking horse, gifted with the bad habit of showing the whites of its eyes and tossing up its head in what seemed to be a vicious way.

“Hullo!” cried Wyatt, as the native groom began caressing the animal on seeing them enter, with the result of making the horse more restive; “why, you’ve got Old Bones.”

“Yes, sir,” said the sergeant; “he knows his business so well that I thought he would be best.”

“But he’s such a rough, hard-mouthed brute, Stubbs.”

“Yes, sir; but he answers to the word of command better than any horse in the troop.”

“Humph!” ejaculated Wyatt. “You must nip him well with your knees, Darrell.”

Dick nodded, and stood looking at the horse, which was led up at a sign made by the sergeant.

“Been accustomed to horses, sir?” he said to his pupil.

“Yes, a little,” said Dick.

“Then you won’t be nervous, sir; and the ground bark is quite soft to fall on.”

“Yes,” said Wyatt; “and if you do come off you needn’t mind, for you’ll have no stirrups, and the horse will stop short.”

At the words “no stirrups” Dick winced a little, but he set his teeth a bit harder.

The horse bore a regular high-peaked and pommelled saddle of the military type, and the sergeant took the reins while the syce went, as the lad supposed, to take off or cross the stirrups over the horse’s back; but, rather to Dick’s dismay, he rapidly unbuckled the girths and drew the saddle off, carrying it to a great peg near the door, and then hurrying back to take the reins from the sergeant’s hand.

“Ready, sir?” said the latter.

Dick nodded.

“Then I’ll give you a leg up. Take the reins. No, no; that’s not our way, sir. Only pass your little finger between them this fashion, and let them both run through your hand, passing them together between your thumb and first finger. See; this way. Gives you a firmer pull in reining up short.”

Dick nodded, after watching the sergeant, who then dropped the reins on the horse’s neck.

“Now then, take up your reins.”

Dick obeyed, holding them exactly as the sergeant had done the moment before.

“Wrong!” shouted his master. “Try again.”

Dick dropped the rein, and turned an inquiring look at his tutor.

“You took up the wrong rein, sir. Civilians ride on the snaffle; soldiers ride on the curb.”

Dick nodded, and took up the curb-rein this time.

“Good. Now give me your left leg, and when I say ‘Mount,’ put a little spring into it as I give you a lift, raise your right leg high as you throw it over to clear your saddle and traps, and open your crutch wide as you let yourself drop on to the horse’s back. Of course there is no saddle, but you must mount as if there was. Ready!—Mount.”

The sergeant raised the lad’s leg, and seemed to be trying to throw him over to the other side of the horse, which kept on tossing its head about, but stood like a statue.

In an instant Dick was in his place.

“Off again!” cried the sergeant; and the lad threw himself off quickly. “Now, your leg. See if you can do that again.”

The orders were given, and the lad dropped once more easily into his place, Wyatt giving a satisfied smile, and the sergeant nodding.

“Attention!” he cried. “Now take up the snaffle-rein to hold loosely in your hand. That’s right. Get well down in your seat; sit perfectly upright, elbows more in, grip with your knees, and keep your toes pointed forward and your heels well down. Mind, you have to ride on the balance. That’s right. You will advance now at a walk.”

As he uttered the last word the syce darted back, and the horse went off at a quick walk down the side of the riding-school, along the end, right down the other side and bottom, and back to where the three were standing.

“Not bad, sir,” said the sergeant. “Feel pretty safe?” Dick nodded.

“Keep those elbows in and your toes well up. Straighter, straighter. That’s right. Once more—forward at a walk.”

The horse started again, and as soon as the rider was out of hearing Wyatt spoke.

“Promises well, Sergeant.”

“Yes, sir; not the first time he has been on a horse.—Trot!” he shouted, and the horse broke into a long, swinging stride, throwing his rider up so high that Dick felt how well his mount merited the term rough; but the lad kept his place pretty well, and as they reached the sergeant again a sharp “Halt!” rang out, the horse stopped short, and Dick went right forward upon the neck.

“I said ‘Halt!’” cried the sergeant grimly. “Get back in your place, sir, and keep there. We ride on a horse’s back, an elephant’s neck, and the ears keep you from going any forwarder.”

“The old joke, Stubbs,” said Wyatt softly.

“Yes, sir; I have used it a good many times with recruits,” said the sergeant grimly. Then to his pupil, “Now, sir, keep in your place this time.”

“Yes. That was bad,” said Dick.

“Silence! Advance at a walk.”

The horse moved off again.

“Trot!”

Away he went, snorting and tossing his head, throwing his rider up at every stride of his long-legs right round the school, and Dick nipped the animal’s sides with his knees, doing his best to keep his seat when the word “Halt!” should ring out; but, to his surprise, the horse went on past the group and passed again for another round.

Then came the order; the horse stopped short.

“Sit easy!” shouted the sergeant. “Make much of your horse. Sit easy!” he cried again, for Dick had not moved. “Pat your horse, sir; pat your horse.”

Dick obeyed now, and the sergeant went on giving him instructions about his seat, and opening his crutch, getting his elbows in, and heels down.

“Sit well upright, sir, but not stiff as a ramrod. A good rider ought to be like a part of his horse.”

And so on, and so on, for a few minutes, while the lieutenant looked on sternly without uttering a word, frowning severely the while.

“Attention!” shouted the sergeant again, as if he were addressing a squad of recruits; and once more the walking and trotting were gone through. There was another rest, some repetition of instructions, all of which Dick, a soldier by training, listened to in silence, and fixed as well as he could upon his memory.

But an hour had nearly gone by, and he was growing tired, while sundry internal hints suggested that breakfast would be acceptable. The lesson was not at an end, though. “Attention” was called, and the horse started again at a walk.

“Going to try him at the gallop?” said Wyatt softly.

“Yes, sir,” replied the sergeant; “he can ride.”

“Won’t come off, will he?”

The sergeant shook his head.

“Trot!”

Away went the horse with his long, swinging stride, which without a saddle was rather a painful mode of progression for his rider.

“This is the finish,” thought Dick.

“Gallop!” was roared, and in an instant the horse bounded off, swinging round the long building, while, delighted with the change, his rider settled down to the easy pace with a profound feeling of satisfaction.

But as he passed the sergeant there was a roar at him to sit up, and he had to recall his instructions and ride according to them.

“Better!” shouted the sergeant as they dashed by, scattering the soft covering of the ring, while the horse covered the ground as if this were the natural pace to which he was accustomed. And the third time round the young rider was on his guard—he expected the word “Halt!”—and when it came, and the horse stopped short, he kept his place.

“Dismount!” cried the sergeant, and Dick threw himself off, hot and panting.

“That will do for this morning, sir. You’ve been on a horse before.”

“Yes,” said Dick quietly; “I used to ride about with my father when I was at home.”

The syce clapped the saddle on the horse again, and walked it away to the stables; and, after a word or two from the sergeant, the two officers marched back to quarters.

“Feel stiff, Darrell?” said Wyatt.

“Yes, and sore about the knees. I’m not used to riding without a saddle.”

“Capital practice. Keep it up; the sergeant’s a splendid teacher.”

“Rather a rough one,” said Dick.

“Ah, you’re tired. Come and have breakfast. You’ll feel better then. Go to your room and have a wash and brush; I’ll wait for you. You’ll just have time. Hulton likes us to be punctual. Here—No, I’ll go straight on; join me there.”

“Yes,” said Dick quietly, and he went to his room, while Wyatt went on and found his brother-officer ready and the servants waiting to bring in the breakfast.

“Been to the riding-school?”

“Yes; just come away.”

“Well, what’s he like with a horse?”

“Tip-top,” replied Wyatt—“for a beginner.”

“Then you think we shall make something of him?”

“Not a doubt about it.”

“They are going to bring out Burnouse this morning, so that I may come to some decision about whether it shall be sold. Will you buy it?”

“Can’t afford another, my dear boy. Why don’t you?”

“I’m in the same position. The horse is quite impossible for that boy?”

“Oh, yes; it would be murder to put him on it.”

“Then the horse must go and be sold. It’s a pity, too, for he’s a splendid creature.”