"Perhaps I do," said I; "but that's my affair. I do not choose to take more."
"I wish you would let me get into the saddle," said the man. "The horse knows you, and therefore shows to more advantage; but I should like to see how he would move under me, who am a stranger. Will you let me get into the saddle, young man?"
"No," said I.
"Why not?" said the man.
"Lest you should be a Yorkshireman," said I, "and should run away with the horse."
"Yorkshire?" said the man. "I am from Suffolk--silly Suffolk--so you need not be afraid of my running away with him."
"Oh, if that's the case," said I, "I should be afraid that the horse would run away with you!"
Threading my way as well as I could through the press, I returned to the yard of the inn, where, dismounting, I stood still, holding the horse by the bridle. A jockey, who had already bargained with me, entered, accompanied by another individual.
"Here is my lord come to look at the horse, young man," said the jockey. My lord was a tall figure of about five-and-thirty. He had on his head a hat somewhat rusty, and on his back a surtout of blue rather worse for wear. His forehead, if not high, was exceedingly narrow; his eyes were brown, with a rat-like glare in them. He had scarcely glanced at the horse when, drawing in his cheeks, he thrust out his lips like a baboon to a piece of sugar.
"Is this horse yours?" said he.