“He be a getting on stunnin’, Mr. Philip; I’ve kept him bandaged, as you told me, sir, and it aint hardly noticeable.”
“Let me have a look at him,” was the reply; and after leading the mare into the stable from which he had originally himself appeared, Dick produced a key, and, unlocking therewith the door of another stable, Tirrett entered. In a loose-box, enveloped in cloths, stood a remarkably fine horse, which, as the door opened, turned its small, well-formed head to gaze at the intruders, laying back its ears and showing its teeth when Tirrett approached it. Master Phil, however, appeared perfectly aware of its various little peculiarities, both of temper and bodily estate.
“Put a saddle and bridle on him,” he said; “I want to see him out.” The execution of this order invoked a scene analogous to the little ballet d’action usually performed between a refractory child requiring to have its face washed, and a firm, but tender and judicious nurse. Thus, on Dick approaching his charge gingerly, with the bridle held out in a tempting and seductive manner, that perverse quadruped immediately elevated its head to the altitude of that of a cameleopard, or thereabouts; which, as Dick was rather under than over the middle height, completely frustrated his purpose; whereupon the groom told Pasquale to “now then!” superadding a request to him to “come out o’ that, will yer!” without unnecessary delay. If the demonstrative pronoun referred to the Don’s attitude, he did “come out of it” instantly, by turning short round, and in a most senseless and uncivil fashion presenting his tail to be bridled instead of his head; but this little display of wilfulness and ill-breeding defeated his object, for by his sudden gyration he placed himself in a corner of his loose-box, where Dick cleverly contrived to pin him, and before (if he had possessed the faculty of speech) he could have invoked Jack Robinson, clapt the bridle on him, and “brought him round” in every sense of the term. “Take the bandage off the foreleg,” was Tirrett’s next order; as soon as the groom had executed it, his employer stooped down and carefully felt and examined the uncovered leg. “The heat and tenderness seem all gone,” he said; “there’s a little fulness still, but that will go down when you’ve had him out for half an hour. Does he show lame at all?”
“I aint took him out of a valk, you know, since it happened, Master Phil; but he don’t valk lame none,” was the reply.
“I must see him out, Dick; take him down to the meadow with a saddle on over his clothes. How is his temper?” was the next inquiry.
“Vell, he aint jist the sort o’ hanimal for a timid old gentleman, you know, Master Phil; it takes a man to ride him; but he’d be civil enough with you or me on his back, after the first five minutes,” rejoined Dick, buckling the girths so tightly as disagreeably to compress the person of the irascible Don Pasquale, who, fortunately for himself, by no means resembled in figure his namesake, as enacted by the inimitable Lablache; but who still resented this indignity by making sundry vigorous, but abortive efforts to bite and kick his attendant, by which he obtained an exhortation to “cup!” (which we take to be an abbreviation of “come up!”), together with the interrogative remonstrance, “what are you arter—can’t ye?” His toilet thus completed, the Don was led, snorting and curvetting, across the yard to a gate opening into a grass paddock of from ten to twelve acres; where, as soon as he was fairly inside the gate, he commenced a series of violent pantomimic protestations against the indignity of being mounted; nor was it until Dick, having exhausted his entire vocabulary of equine endearment, had been forced to betake himself to a course of hard Yorkshire swearing, that he could be induced to stand still for ten consecutive seconds. That desideratum being fortunately attained just before Dick became black in the face from the force of the language he was compelled to employ, the groom, gathering up the reins, grasped the front of the saddle firmly, and requested from Tirrett the favour of “a leg up;” a demand to which that young gentleman responded by seizing him by the right knee, and flinging him recklessly upward into space, whence by a special mercy he descended on the saddle, and therefore on the back of Don Pasquale. Then that noble quadruped tried to obtain forcible possession of his own head, with the felonious intention of careering madly round the meadow, and annihilating Dick in his rapid career; but the astute groom, foreseeing some such catastrophe, would by no means permit him to accomplish his design, but retained possession of his head by a strong hand, a stout rein, and a powerful bit. Frustrated in his amiable intention, the Don appeared determined to prove to society at large that, if he had lost his head, he at all events possessed the free use (not to say abuse) of his limbs; so he pranced, and sidled, and jumped with all four feet off the ground at once, varying the performance by alternately kicking and rearing, until he had in that rash and inconsiderate manner made the circuit of the paddock, when, finding his rider clung to the saddle with an adhesive pertinacity which rendered the probability of throwing him completely a forlorn hope, he apparently gave the matter up in despair, dropped quietly into the habits and customs of ordinary horses, and permitted himself to be ridden hither and thither at his master’s, and his master’s master’s, pleasure.
“Take him by at a slow trot, then at a fast, then at a canter,” was Tirrett’s first direction; when this had been complied with, he continued: “Now take him over the leaping-bar.” Dick, who seemed devoid of all individuality of will, and to exist only in order to do as he was bid, without the slightest reference to its compatibility with the safety of his own life and limbs, immediately turned to obey; but Don Pasquale, whatever degree of fondness he had evinced for gymnastic exercises on his own account, clearly had not the smallest inclination to perform such feats for the pleasure of others: thus, when brought up to the leaping-bar, he not only refused to go over it, but actually turned his “head where was his tail,” and dashed off in a diametrically opposite direction. But it was of no avail; Dick, once mounted, was immovable, inexorable; moreover, he wore a pair of singularly sharp spurs, with which he had a disagreeable habit of excoriating the sides of any cantankerous quadruped he might bestride. So, after fight number two, the Don was again conquered, and taken over the leaping-bar, which he cleared in gallant style. “That will do, bring him here,” continued Tirrett; “he scarcely shows lame at all; but he’s too fresh, his temper appears too plainly, he wants severe exercise. Will the fore-leg stand training for a race, do you think?”
“Vell, if ve has the doing of it, Master Phil; so as we can humour him, and doctor him, and vork him only on the soft turf, and little and often, not to overtire the back sinews, do yer see; and keep him cold-bandaged at night, and so work the horacle that fashion, the thing may be done without making a mull on it.”
Tirrett removed his hat, passed his fingers through his hair, replaced it again, thought for a moment, once more felt the suspicious back sinews, shook his head, and then resumed: “Keep him out for the next two hours; give it him sufficiently stiff to take the devil completely out of him; then feed and clean him, and have him ready to show by half-past eight. Get yourself dressed, too, for if I sell the horse I shall let you go with him for a time—you understand; but you shall have full directions when I see my way clearly. Now I must be off; you need not come in, I can get the mare myself. Take him over that bar again once or twice; it won’t do for him to shirk it when I’m showing him—remember, half-past eight.” So saying, Tirrett returned to the stable, brought out his mare, remounted, and rode off at the same speed as that at which he had arrived.
When he reached the livery stable whence he had procured the mare, it still wanted a quarter of seven; calling a cab, he drove without delay to a small street in the neighbourhood of Leicester Square, and rang twice at one of the houses without producing any result, but a third and more strenuous application of the bell-pull unearthed a curl-papered and slip-shod maidservant, who replied to his inquiry, “Whether the captain was at home?” that he was in bed and asleep, for aught she knew to the contrary. “Show me his room,” was the reply. The girl scrutinised him with a doubtful air, which, Tirrett perceiving, continued, “It’s all right, my good girl, I’m not a dun;” at the same time he placed a shilling in her hand, and, her scruples vanishing at the magic touch of silver, she led the way up two flights of stairs, then, tapping at a bedroom door, she exclaimed—