This for a moment upset me, as I regarded Hutton as more than a passing acquaintance, and I could not understand how he, a gentleman by birth and education, could have sunk his pride so as to have got drunk in such companionship as our mates. Old Jack I also liked, but his was a different case, as nothing better could be expected from him, Pierre or George than a pirates’ debauch; and I had but small respect for Smith, who, notwithstanding his culture, had somehow never seemed to ring true. However, I could do nothing for them, so squatted down and enjoyed the meat and bread Buck had so kindly prepared for me. Fortunately the night was a fine one, so after a yarn by the fire we made down our blankets and slept in the open, leaving the tent to the votaries of Bacchus. The following day, as the bust was still being kept up, I attended a sale of captured loot, cattle, horses, etc., and bought for ten pounds a very fine horse, getting also a nearly new saddle and bridle of the best Australian make for two pounds. The nag was a very well-bred one and had evidently been bred by some settler looted by the Maoris, and was more than half wild, besides which he was in very poor condition; but he was only four years old, well topped, with splendid quarters, legs and feet, and I made up my mind to set to work to break him in and get him into good condition. As I was overlooking my purchase Mr Roach strolled up. “Well, Burke,” he said, “so you’ve started a stable, have you? Well, you’ve made a deuced good start. I know the breed of that horse, and the man who bred him never bred a wrong ’un,” and he pointed at the two tomahawks’ brand on the near shoulder. “He is by Cid out of a Duchess mare, and is as near thoroughbred as they make them. You have a cheap lot, but, by George! you may have a job to break him, although once you have done it you’ll find he’s all right, as there is not a particle of vice in the breed. Come along and let’s see you back him. But have you ever tried to back a buckjumper before? What sort of a hand are you in the pigskin?” I told him I was all right in the hunting-field, having ridden from childhood, but had never broken in a horse, nor ever seen a buckjumper in my life. “Then,” said he, “I advise you to let one of those defence force fellows do it. There are plenty of rough-riding stockmen among them.” “Well, sir,” I answered, “I’m determined to tackle him myself, especially as I want to train him afterwards, and if I remain in the colony I must sooner or later come across a buckjumper.” “True,” he replied. “I’ll give you a hand with the saddle, but bring him into the paddock so that if he pips you we can round him up easily. One thing’s in your favour, he is very poor, so that you may have a chance of breaking him before he regains his full strength.”