Mr. Andrew P. Hay had decided to go to London. He knew a fair amount of English; for several years before a box from a wrecked vessel had been cast ashore on the island, and it had happened to contain some useful books and papers--a text of Homer, interlined with Mr. Gladstone's translation into English, several Greek-English primers, a Liddell and Scott's lexicon, some Ollendorffs, a Lindley Murray, Webster's American Dictionary, several issues of the _Times_, and a rhyming dictionary. Thus had A. P. Hay been enabled to learn the English language. The journey to England was full of unpleasantness. There were difficulties, too, about meals; the Centaur having conceived a growing distaste for hay and beans. The coaster had landed them at Otranto, where Bowes promptly engaged a private stable for his master. But now occurred the first difficulty--they had no money. The captain of the coaster had yet to be paid. But Bowes contrived to obtain, on credit, a suit of clothes in place of his tunic of woven grasses. "There's only one way out of this, sir," said Bowes, after a spell of thought; "I shall have to sell you!" "I fail to catch your meaning," said Mr. Hay, loftily pawing the ground. "Sell _me_?" "That's it, sir; that's the only plan _I_ can back for a place. You ought to fetch a good round sum, sir. Why, sir, look at you--there you stand, 17.1, deep in the girth, lovely clean houghs and pasterns, sir--look at 'em yourself if you ain't satisfied--sound wind, well planted, born flier, grand action. Look at your pedigree, that's enough! No vice--lady could hunt you, sir--oh, I'm not saying it to flatter you, sir! As for selling you--don't you see," said Bowes, placing his finger to his nose, "that's just a bit of practice, that's all. We shall have to sharp 'em. Let me alone to see to that." "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.)