"Twenty-five, sir!" retorted the shabby man.
"Hey?" cried the Captain, staring from one to the other. "What's all this? B'gad! I say stop a bit—wait a minute! Bob, lend me your bucket."
Hereupon the Corinthian obligingly vacating that article. Captain Slingsby incontinent stood upon it, and from that altitude began to harangue the yard, flourishing his whip after the manner of an auctioneer's hammer.
"Now here you are, gentlemen!" he cried. "I offer you a devilishly ugly, damnably vicious brute, b'gad! I offer you a four-legged demon, an accursed beast that nobody can ever hope to ride—a regular terror, curse me! Killed one groom already, will probably kill another. Now, what is your price for this lady's pet? Look him over and bid accordingly."
"Twenty-five pound, sir," said the shabby man.
"Thirty!" said Barnabas.
"Thirty-one, sir."
"Fifty!" said Barnabas.
"Fifty!" cried the Captain, flourishing his whip. "Fifty pounds from the gentleman in the neckcloth—fifty's the figure. Any more? Any advance on fifty? What, all done! Won't any one go another pound for a beast fit only for the knacker's yard? Oh, Gad, gentlemen, why this reticence? Are you all done?"
"I can't go no higher, sir," said the shabby man, shaking his gray head sadly.
"Then going at fifty—at fifty! Going! Going! Gone, b'gad! Sold to the knowing young cove in the neckcloth."
Now, at the repetition of this word, Barnabas began to frown.
"And b'gad!" exclaimed the Captain, stepping down from the bucket, "a devilish bad bargain he's got, too."
"That, sir, remains to be seen," said Barnabas, shortly.
"Why, what do you mean to do with the brute?"
"Ride him."
"Do you, b'gad?"
"I do."
"Lay you ten guineas you don't sit him ten minutes."
"Done!" said Barnabas, buttoning up his coat.
But now, glancing round, he saw that the shabby man had turned away, and was trudging heavily out of the yard, therefore Barnabas hastened after him, and touched him upon the arm.
"I'm sorry you were disappointed," said he.
"Is it about the 'oss you mean, sir?" inquired the shabby man, touching his hat.
"Yes."
"Why, it do come a bit 'ard-like to ha' lost 'im, sir, arter waiting my chance so long. But fifty guineas be a sight o' money to a chap as be out of a job, though 'e's dirt-cheap at the price. There ain't many 'osses like 'im, sir."
"That was why I should have bought him at ten times the price," said
Barnabas.
The man took off his hat, ran his stubby fingers through his grizzled hair, and stared hard at Barnabas.
"Sir," said he, "even at that you couldn't ha' done wrong. He ain't a kind 'oss—never 'aving been understood, d' ye see; but take my word for it, 'e's a wonder, that 'oss!"
"You know him, perhaps?"
"Since 'e were foaled, sir. I was stud-groom; but folks think I'm too old for the job, d' ye see, sir?"
"Do you think he 'd remember you?"
"Ay, that 'e would!"
"Do you suppose—look at him!—do you suppose you could hold him quieter than those ostlers?"
"'Old 'im, sir!" exclaimed the man, throwing back his shoulders.
"'Old 'im—ah, that I could! Try me!"
"I will," said Barnabas. "How would forty shillings a week suit you?"
"Sir?" exclaimed the old groom, staring.
"Since you need a job, and I need a groom, I'll have you—if you're willing."
The man's square jaw relaxed, his eyes glistened; then all at once he shook his head and sighed.
