Adventure stories; England -- Fiction; Romanies -- Fiction
I had been standing in this manner about five minutes, when I saw the
jockey enter the yard, accompanied by another individual. They advanced
directly towards me. "Here is my lord come to look at the horse, young
man," said the jockey. My lord, as the jockey called him, 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 the worse for wear. His
forehead, if not high, was exceedingly narrow; his eyes were brown, with
a rat-like glare in them; the nose was rather long, and the mouth very
wide; the cheek-bones high, and the cheeks, as to hue and consistency,
exhibiting very much the appearance of a withered red apple; there was a
gaunt expression of hunger in the whole countenance. He had scarcely
glanced at the horse, when drawing in his cheeks, he thrust out his lips
very much after the manner of a baboon, when he sees a piece of sugar
held out towards him. "Is this horse yours?" said he, suddenly turning
towards me, with a kind of smirk. "It's my horse," said I; "are you the
person who wishes to make an honest penny by it?" "How!" said he,
drawing up his head with a very consequential look, and speaking with a
very haughty tone, "what do you mean?" We looked at each other full in
the face; after a few moments, the muscles of the mouth of him of the
hungry look began to move violently, the face was puckered into
innumerable wrinkles, and the eyes became half closed. "Well," said I,
"have you ever seen me before? I suppose you are asking yourself that
question." "Excuse me, sir," said he, dropping his lofty look, and
speaking in a very subdued and civil tone, "I have never had the honour
of seeing you before, that is"--said he, slightly glancing at me again,
and again moving the muscles of his mouth, "no, I have never seen you
before," he added, making me a bow. "I have never had that pleasure; my
business with you, at present, is to inquire the lowest price you are
willing to take for this horse. My agent here informs me that you ask
one hundred and fifty pounds, which I cannot think of giving--the horse
is a showy horse, but look, my dear sir, he has a defect here, and there
in his near fore leg I observe something which looks very like a
splint--yes, upon my credit," said he, touching the animal, "he has a
splint, or something which will end in one. A hundred and fifty pounds,
sir! what could have induced you ever to ask anything like that for this
animal? I protest that, in my time, I have frequently bought a better
for-- Who are you, sir? I am in treaty for this horse," said he to a man
who had come up whilst he was talking, and was now looking into the
horse's mouth. "Who am I?" said the man, still looking into the horse's
mouth; "who am I? his lordship asks me. Ah, I see, close on five," said
he, releasing the horse's jaws, and looking at me. This new comer was a
thin, wiry-made individual, with wiry curling brown hair; his face was
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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