“Certainly, sir, and try him, too. He is not flesh and bone at all, sir—devil a thing he is but quicksilver. Here, Paudeen, saddle Brien Boro for this gentleman. You won't require wings, Mr. Woodward; Brien Boro will show you how to fly without them.”
“Well,” replied Woodward, “trial's all; but at any rate, I'm willing to prefer good flesh and bone to quicksilver.”
In a few minutes the horse was brought out, saddled and bridled, and Woodward, who certainly was an excellent horseman, mounted him and tried his paces.
“Well, sir,” said Murray, “how do you like him?”
“I like him well,” said Woodward. “His temper is good, I know, by his docility to the bit.”
“Yes, but you haven't tried him at a ditch; follow me and I'll show you as pretty a one as ever a horse crossed, and you may take my word it isn't every horse could cross it. You have a good firm seat, sir; and I know you will both do it in sportsman-like style.”
Having reached the ditch, which certainly was a rasper, Woodward reined round the animal, who crossed it like a swallow.
“Now,” said Murray, “unless you wish to ride half a mile in order to get back, you must cross it again.”
This was accordingly done in admirable style, both by man and horse; and Woodward, having ridden him back to the farmyard, dismounted, highly satisfied with the animal's action and powers.
“Now, Mr. Murray,” said he, “what's his price?”