er of time and money--time
even more than money. I want to read. I want to deal with ideas....

"Any fool can drive...."

"Exactly," said Prothero.

"As for riding, it means no more than the elaborate study and
cultivation of your horse. You have to know him. All horses are
individuals. A made horse perhaps goes its round like an omnibus, but
for the rest...."

Prothero made a noise of sympathetic assent.

"In a country where equestrianism is assertion I suppose one must be
equestrian...."

That night some malignant spirit kept Benham awake, and great
American trotters with vast wide-striding feet and long yellow teeth,
uncontrollable, hard-mouthed American trotters, pounded over his angry
soul.

"Prothero," he said in hall next day, "we are going to drive to-morrow."

Next day, so soon as they had lunched, he led the way towards Maltby's,
in Crosshampton Lane. Something in his bearing put a question into
Prothero's mind. "Benham," he asked, "have you ever driven before?"

"NEVER," said Benham.

"Well?"

"I'm going to now."

Something between pleasure and alarm came into Prothero's eyes. He
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 supposed.

They went along Crosshampton Lane, that high-walled gulley, with
dignity, with only a slight suggestion of the inaccuracy that was
presently to become apparent, u