Being come there, he hammered upon the door which was presently
opened by old Gabriel Martin himself.
"Martin, I'm in a hurry," said Barnabas, "have 'The Terror' saddled
at once, and bring me a pair of spurred boots--quick!"
Without wasting time in needless words, the old groom set the
stable-boys running to and fro, and himself brought Barnabas a pair
of riding-boots, and aided him to put them on. Which done, Barnabas
threw aside the fur cap, stripped off Peterby's rough coat, and
looked about for other garments to take their place.
"If it be a coat as you're wanting, sir, there be one as you wore at
the race," said Martin, "I keep it upstairs in my room. It be a bit
tore, sir, but--"
"It will do," said Barnabas, nodding, "only--hurry, Martin!" By the
time the old groom had returned with the scarlet hunting-frock and
helped Barnabas into it, "The Terror" was led out from his box, and
immediately began to snort and rear and beat a ringing tattoo with
his great, round hoofs to a chorus of chirruping and whoa-ing from
the stable-boys.
"A bit fresh-ish, p'r'aps, sir!" said Martin, viewing the
magnificent animal with glistening eyes, "exercised reg'lar, too!
But wot 'e wants is a good, stretching, cross-country gallop.
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