I'll lend you a horse to get back on to-morrow.

You can camp here till then, there's no hurry back." The boy let his horse go loose, dismissing it with a parting whack on the rump with the bridle, and swaggered inside, carrying his saddle, to show his wet clothes and recount his deeds to the admiring cook.

Patsy was not one to hide his light under a bushel.
Hugh carried the bag into the office, and shook out the letters and papers on the table.

Everything was permeated with a smell of wet leather, and some of the newspapers were rather pulpy.

After sending out everybody else's mail he turned to examine his own.