"I need it only for a day," I urged eagerly; "for less than a day. I could reach Bristol in the morning, and would send it you back forthwith."
I plunged my hand into my fob, and pulled out a handful of money as I spoke.
"It is no use," he declared. "The horse is not mine. 'Twas left here for a purpose, and I may not part with it."
"It would be with you again to-morrow," I repeated.
"It may be needed in the meanwhile," said he. "It may be needed in an hour. I know not."
I let the coins run from my right hand into the palm of my left, so that they fell clinking one on the top of the other. For a second he stood undecided; then he spoke in a low voice like a man arguing with himself.
"I will not do it. The horse was left with me in trust--in trust. Moreover, I was well paid for the trust." And he turned to me.
"Put up your money, sir," said he stubbornly. "You should think shame to tempt poor folk. You will get no horse 'twixt here and Hungerford."
I slipped the money back into my pocket while he moved away with the horse. It limped worse than ever, and he stopped and picked up its foreleg.
"It is no more than a strain, I think," he called out. "The wife shall make a poultice for it to-night, and you can start betimes in the morning."