It was a curious thing, but no one ever bought a horse of Mr. Saunderson that had not been immensely admired by, and generally promised to, some anonymous member of the peerage.
"Easy with him, Martin, easy! Bring him over here.--So, Launcelot, so, boy."
Launcelot was a big chestnut horse, over sixteen hands high, high crest, long lean head, enormous quarters, powerful legs, and large broad feet. He looked every inch a weight-carrying hunter, and a scar or two here and there about him by no means detracted from his beauty in the eyes of the knowing ones. Martin was the rough-rider to the establishment, bullet-headed, high-cheek-boned, sunken-eyed, with limbs of steel, and pluck which would have made him ram a horse at the Victoria Tower if he had had instructions. As Mr. Spurrier patted the horse's neck, Martin leant over him and whispered, "I've told one o' them to come out on Black Jack, sir. This is a 'oss that wants a lead, this 'oss does. Give 'im a lead, and he'll face anythink."
"All right," said Spurrier, as another man and horse came out; "here they are. Go down to the gate in the tan-gallop, will you? put up the hurdles first.--Now, Colonel, this way, please; the grass is rather wet even now."
They walked across a large meadow, along one side of which from end to end a tan-gallop had been made. Midway across this some hurdles with furze on the top had been stuck up between two gate-posts, and at these the boy on Black Jack rode his horse. A steady-goer, Black Jack; up to his work, and knowing exactly what was expected of him; comes easily up to the hurdles, rises, and is over like a bird. Not so Launcelot, who frets at starting; but moves under Martin's knees and Martin's spurs, gives two or three bounds, throws up his head, and is off like a flash of lightning. Martin steadies him a bit as they approach the leap, and Jack's rider brings his horse round, meets Martin half-way, and at it they go together. Jack jumps again, exactly in his old easy way, but Launcelot tears away with a snort and a rush, and jumps, as Mr. Spurrier says, "as though he would jump into the next county."
"Now the gate!" says Mr. Spurrier; and the hurdles were removed, and a massive five-barred gate put up between the posts.
"You go first, boy," said Spurrier; and Black Jack's rider, who was but a boy, looked very white in the gills, and very tight in the mouth, and galloped off. But Jack was not meant for a country which grew such gates as that, and when he reached it, turned short round, palpably refusing. Knowing he should get slanged by his master, the boy was bringing him up again, when he heard a warning shout, and looking round, cleared out of the way to let Launcelot pass. Launcelot's mettle was up; he wanted no lead this time. Martin, with his face impassably set, brought his whip down heavily on him as he lifted him; but Launcelot did not need the blow; he sprang three or four inches clear of the leap in splendid style.
"By George, that's a fine creature!" said Laurence, who had all a sportsman's admiration for the feat. "I think I must have him, Spurrier, if his figure's not very awful. But I should first like to take him over that gate myself."
"All right, Colonel; I thought he'd, take your fancy.--Get down, Martin, and let down those stirrups a couple of holes for the Colonel, will you?--And you, boy, tumble off there. I'll see whether that old vagabond will refuse with me.--Ah, you're a sly old scoundrel, Jack; but I think we'll clear the gate, old boy!"
Alsager was already in the saddle, and Spurrier was tightening the girths, when the former heard a low rumbling sound gradually growing more distinct.