'Hold on, sir,' he shouted. 'Hold your own, father! Here I am! Here
is Richard!'

And as he shouted he sent Beelzebub, like low-flying bolt from
cross-bow, up the steep crown of the bridge, and wedged him in
between Oliver and the parapet, just as a second cavalier made a
dart for the place. At his horse Beelzebub sprang like a fury,
rearing, biting, and striking out with his fore-feet in such manner
as quite to make up to his rider for the disadvantage of his low
stature. The cavalier's horse recoiled in terror, rearing also, but
snorting and backing and wavering, so that, in his endeavours to
avoid the fury of Beelzebub, which was frightful to see, for with
ears laid back and gleaming teeth he looked more like a beast of
prey, he would but for the crowd behind him have fallen backward
down the slope. A bullet from one of Richard's pistols sent his
rider over his tail, the horse fell sideways against that of Mr.
Heywood's antagonist, and the path was for a moment barricaded.

'Well done, good Beelzebub!' cried Richard, as he reined him back on
to the crest of the bridge.

'Boy!' said his father sternly, at the same instant dealing his
encumbered opponent a blow on the head-piece which tumbled him also
from his horse, 'is the sacred hour of victory a time to sully with
profane and foolish jests? I little thought to hear such words at my
side--not to say from the mouth of my own son!'

'Pardon me, father; I praised my horse,' said Richard. 'I think not
he ever had praise before, but it cannot corrupt him, for he is such
an ill-conditioned brute that they that named him did name him