Then the big man spoke; and his voice was measured and very still. "If you think I burst the gamest eart that ever beat in an orse's ide for a drink, why then, sir," with crushing simplicity, "you think wrong." He resumed his rowing, and continued with the same surprising dignity. "I bred that orse; I broke that orse; I loved that orse." The tide of the boy's being set back with a shock. "O!" he cried. "O ... I didn't mean ... I really...." "That's all right, sir," came the other's smothered voice. "I know you didn't." He swallowed, and his face grew rigid. Then a light broke all about it. "But there!" with husky pride. "He won't bear me no grudge--will you, old man?" with a hoarse burst of tenderness, flinging his arm towards the bank, where the dead horse's girths glimmered still in the dusk. "He know'd I wouldn't have asked it of him, only I had to. That's my old orse! that's my Robin!--Never asked no questions. Just took and died and did his duty without the talkin. Maybe some of us might learn a bit from him." Taking a great bandana from his pocket, he blew his nose like the report of a pistol. "A'ter all," he said, with touching solemnity, "he died for his country, did my Robin--same as Abercromby at Alexandrya." III Behind them on the hill a clock struck eight. The riding-officer held up his hand. "Ark!" he cried. "It was going seven in Ditchling as I pelted down the Beacon. Gallop! gallop! gallop! There's ne'er another orse in England could ha done it, with big Jerry Ram bumpin on his back all the way; danged if there be!" He thumped his knee. "King George ought to know on it! He died for him. Fair lay down to it, belly all along the ground. Might ha know'd he was on the King's business, and the Gentleman with two minutes' start streakin away for Birling Gap like a bullet from the bow." "Aw, he'll be out again than?" drawled the waterman, sleepy and Sussex. "Out again!" shouted Big Jerry, and clapping the handkerchief to his ear, thrust it beneath the other's eye of mildew. "What's that?--blood, ain't it?--whose?--mine.--How?--The Gentleman." "You'll ha met him than, I expagt?" cooed the waterman in his cautious way. "He met me more like," replied Big Jerry with the grim humour of the whole-hearted man, who gives hard knocks and takes them all in good part. "Not but what we was expectin him, you'll understand." "You knaw'd he was comin than surely?" came the waterman's slow musical voice. "Know'd it!" roared the other. "O course we know'd it. Why's the _Kite_ been layin in Cuckmere Haven since night afore last?--why was the Gap Gang strung out all the way from Furrel Beacon to Beachy Head all day yesterday?--Why was Black Diamond mouchin round in Lewes this morning?--Why?--why?--why?" "Why?" asked the boy, breathless. "Because the Gallopin Gent was comin down with despatches for Boney, and they were keepin the road for him. That's why," screamed the big man, bumping up and down in his excitement.