quickened his pace so as to get alongside his friend and scrutinize
his pale determination. "Why are you doing this?" he asked.

"I want to do it."

"Benham, is it--EQUESTRIAN?"

Benham made no audible reply. They proceeded resolutely in silence.

An air of expectation prevailed in Maltby's yard. In the shafts of
a high, bleak-looking vehicle with vast side wheels, a throne-like
vehicle that impressed Billy Prothero as being a gig, a very large
angular black horse was being harnessed.

"This is mine," said Benham compactly.

"This is yours, sir," said an ostler.

"He looks--QUIET."

"You'll find him fresh enough, sir."

Benham made a complicated ascent to the driver's seat and was handed
the reins. "Come on," he said, and Prothero followed to a less
exalted seat at Benham's side. They seemed to be at a very great
height indeed. The horse was then led out into Crosshampton Lane,
faced towards Trinity Street and discharged. "Check," said Benham,
and touched the steed with his whip. They started quite well, and
the ostlers went back into the yard, visibly unanxious. It struck
Prothero that perhaps driving was less difficult than he had