“You forget that you are soldiers,” said I. “How should you buy my horse?”
“We are soldiers, your worship,” said the corporal, “but we are still Caloré. We buy and sell bestis; the captain of our troop is in league with us. We have been to the wars, but not to fight; we left that to the Busné. We have kept together, and, like true Caloré, have stood back to back. We have made money in the wars, your worship. No tenga usted cuidao. [305a] We can buy your horse.”
Here he pulled out a purse, which contained at least ten ounces [305b] of gold.
“If I were willing to sell,” I replied, “what would you give me for that horse?”
“Then your worship wishes to sell your horse—that alters the matter. We will give ten dollars for your worship’s horse. He is good for nothing.”
“How is this?” said I. “You this moment told me he was a fine horse—an Andalusian, and a countryman of yours.”
“No, señor! we did not say that he was an Andalou. We said he was an Estremou, and the worst of his kind. He is eighteen years old, your worship, short-winded and galled.”
“I do not wish to sell my horse,” said I; “quite the contrary. I had rather buy than sell.”
“Your worship does not wish to sell your horse,” said the gypsy. “Stay, your worship; we will give sixty dollars for your worship’s horse.”
“I would not sell him for two hundred and sixty. Meclis! Meclis! say no more. I know your gypsy tricks. I will have no dealings with you.”