Reaching Horncastle at last, I managed to get quarters for myself and horse, and, by making friends with the ostlers and others, picked up more hints.

“There a’n’t a better horse in the fair,” said one companion to me, “and as you are one of us, and appear to be all right, I’ll give you a piece of advice—­don’t take less than a hundred and fifty for him.”

“Well,” said I, “thank you for your advice; and, if successful, I will give you ‘summut’ handsome.”

“Thank you,” said the ostler; “and now let me ask whether you are up to all the ways of this here place?”

“I’ve never been here before,” said I.

Thereupon he gave me half a dozen cautions, one of which was not to stop and listen to what any chance customer might have to say; and another, by no manner of means to permit a Yorkshireman to get up into the saddle.  “For,” said he, “if you do, it is three to one that he rides off with the horse; he can’t help it.  Trust a cat amongst cream, but never trust a Yorkshireman on the saddle of a good horse.”

“A fine horse!  A capital horse!” said several of the connoisseurs.  “What do you ask for him?”

“A hundred and fifty pounds,” said I.

“Why, I thought you would have asked double that amount!  You do yourself injustice, young man.”

“Perhaps I do,” said I; “but that’s my affair.  I do not choose to take more.”

“I wish you would let me get into the saddle,” said the man.  “The horse knows you, and therefore shows to more advantage; but I should like to see how he would move under me, who am a stranger.  Will you let me get into the saddle, young man?”

“No,” said I.

“Why not?” said the man.

“Lest you should be a Yorkshireman,” said I, “and should run away with the horse.”

“Yorkshire?” said the man.  “I am from Suffolk—­silly Suffolk—­so you need not be afraid of my running away with him.”

“Oh, if that’s the case,” said I, “I should be afraid that the horse would run away with you!”

Threading my way as well as I could through the press, I returned to the yard of the inn, where, dismounting, I stood still, holding the horse by the bridle.  A jockey, who had already bargained with me, entered, accompanied by another individual.

“Here is my lord come to look at the horse, young man,” said the jockey.  My lord 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 worse for wear.  His forehead, if not high, was exceedingly narrow; his eyes were brown, with a rat-like glare in them.  He had scarcely glanced at the horse when, drawing in his cheeks, he thrust out his lips like a baboon to a piece of sugar.

“Is this horse yours?” said he.

“It’s my horse,” said I.  “Are you the person who wishes to make an honest penny by it?” alluding to a phrase of the jockey’s.