"Ay, why not?" said I. "Because you tried hard to go to the devil when you were young and foolish, it don't follow that you should pursue that line of conduct all your life. You've been in a training stable, eh? If you can break horses, I may find you something to do."
"I'll break horses against any man in this country—though that's not saying much, for I ain't seen not what I call a breaker since I've been here; as for riding, I'd ridden seven great winners before I was eighteen; and that's what ne'er a man alive can say. Ah, those were the rosy times! Ah for old Newmarket!"
"Are you a Cambridgeshire man, then?"
"Me? Oh, no; I'm a Devonshire man. I come near from where Major Buckley lived some years. Did you notice a pale, pretty-looking woman, was with him—Mrs. Hawker?"
I grew all attention. "Yes," I said, "I noticed her."
"I knew her husband well," he said, "and an awful rascal he was: he was lagged for coining, though he might have been for half-a-dozen things besides."
"Indeed!" said I; "and is he in the colony?"
"No; he's over the water, I expect."
"In Van Diemen's Land, you mean?"
"Just so," he said; "he had better not show Bill Lee much of his face, or there'll be mischief."