"Well, Bowes," said the master, "I have every confidence in you, although I do not quite grasp your plan. I must only request that you will do no act calculated to lessen our self-respect or——"
"Get us warned off the course?" said Bowes. "Oh, that'll be all square."
"But you forget that no one will buy me without seeing my head! If I show that, all is lost!"
Bowes merely winked, and went out. Otranto was a most unpromising place for selling a fine horse; but Bowes made inquiries, and discovered that a rich Englishman, much given to horses—a gentleman-jockey—whose yacht was cruising in those parts, happened to be in the town. So Bowes fetched out Mr. Hay, mounted him, and caracoled him all over the place where a horse could manage to go; and presently he caught the eye of the gentleman-jockey. The latter had never seen such a picture of a horse in his life, and yearned to own Mr. Hay.
Bowes explained that he wasn't for sale; that, in fact, he was half sold already to an American millionaire. (Bowes had picked up a considerable smattering of English from his master, you see.)
"Look here," said the gentleman-jockey, "I must have him. On his back I could win every steeplechase in the kingdom. I'll give you £1,000 for him."
"Down?" said Bowes.
"Yes," replied the other. "I'll put off to my yacht and fetch it."
In an hour the £1,000 in gold and Italian paper was in Bowes's possession. Bowes had explained how it would be unwise to unwrap Mr. Hay's head and neck then, as a cold wind was blowing, and the horse had caught a slight cold on his voyage. The jockey was so overcome by the magnificence of the visible parts of Mr. Hay, and so convinced of the wonderful bargain he had made, that he was content to take the head and neck for granted rather than let him go to the American millionaire; so Mr. Hay was put back in the stable for the night, and one of the yacht's crew left there to see to his safety.
Shortly after dark Bowes picked the lock and crept in. Silently he placed a newly-acquired saddle on Mr. Hay's back.