‘Must have more horses too, sir,’ announced Dick, with a calm air of ask and have.
‘How many?’ returned Wilfred uncomplyingly; ‘it seems we shall want more horses—we haven’t any, certainly—more cattle, more tillage, more yards, more paddocks; it will soon come to wanting more money, and where to get that I don’t know.’
‘Horses are dirt cheap, sir, just now, and can’t be done without, nohow. You’ll want a cob for the Captain to potter about on, a couple of hacks for yourself, one apiece for Mr. Guy and the young ladies—they’d like a canter now and then afore Christmas. I hear Mick Donnelly’s selling off, to clear out for Monaro. You couldn’t do better than ride over and see his lot; they’ll be pretty sure to live on our grass, if any of the neighbours gets ’em, and you may as well have that profit out of ’em yourself.’
The conversation having come to an end, Mr. Evans was about to move after his cattle, now indulging in a pretty wide spread, when a horseman joining them, greeted Wilfred.
‘Good-morning, sir,’ said the stranger, with loud, peculiar, but not unpleasant voice, having a note of culture too. ‘Glad to make your acquaintance; Mr. Effingham, I believe? We’re neighbours, on the south, about ten miles from Benmohr. You haven’t seen a chestnut pony about, branded 2C? He used to run here in Hunt’s time. Why, hang me! if he isn’t coming up to show himself!’
The chestnut pony which had borne Wilfred so successfully in the journey for the new cattle now trotted up, having followed Evans’s mare, to which animal he had attached himself, after the manner of horses, prone to contract sudden friendships.
Wilfred, about to disclaim any knowledge of the strange gentleman’s chestnut, not dreaming that the estray which had come in so handily could be his property, and as yet not given to reading at a glance 2C or other hieroglyph, felt rather nonplussed, more especially when he noticed the stranger’s eye attracted to the saddle-mark on the pony’s fat back.
‘I must confess to having ridden your horse, if he be so, a short journey. We were not aware of his ownership, and I had no horse of my own. I trust you will forgive the liberty.’
‘He has rather nice paces. How did you like him?’ inquired the stranger urbanely, much as if he had a favour conferred upon him. ‘I’ll run him into the yard now with your permission, and lead him home.’
‘Pray come in, and allow me to introduce you to my people,’ said Wilfred, satisfied, from the stranger’s bearing, that he was a desirable acquaintance. ‘With the exception of Mr. O’Desmond, from whom I bought these cattle, we have not seen a neighbour yet.’