’Ah! well, I bought him of Mr. Sponge, who said he got him from Lord Bullfrog,’ interrupted Mr. Waffles.

‘Ah! then he is the oss, in course,’ said Mr. Buckram, with a sort of mournful chuck of the chin; ‘he is the oss,’ repeated he; ’well, then, he’s a dangerous hanimal,’ added he, letting slip three half-crowns.

‘What does he do?’ asked Mr. Waffles.

‘Do!’ repeated Mr. Buckram, ‘DO! he’ll do for anybody.’

‘Indeed,’ responded Mr. Waffles; adding, ’how could Mr. Sponge sell me such a brute?’

‘I doesn’t mean to say, mind ye,’ observed Mr. Buckram, drawing back three half-crowns, as though he had gone that much too far,—­’I doesn’t mean to say, mind, that he’s wot you call a misteched, runaway, rear-backwards-over-hanimal—­but I mean to say he’s a difficultish oss to ride—­himpetuous—­and one that, if he got the hupper ’and, would be werry likely to try and keep the hupper ‘and—­you understand me?’ said he, eyeing Mr. Waffles intently, and dropping four half-crowns as he spoke.

‘I’m tellin’ you nothin’ but the truth,’ observed Mr. Buckram, after a pause, adding, ‘in course it’s nothin’ to me, only bein’ down here on a visit to a friend, and ‘earin’ that the oss were ’ere, I made bold to look in to see whether it was ’im or no.  No offence, I ‘opes,’ added he, letting go the rest of the silver, and taking the prop from under his chin, with an obeisance as if he was about to be off.

‘Oh, no offence at all,’ rejoined Mr. Waffles, ’no offence—­rather the contrary.  Indeed, I’m much obliged to you for telling me what you have done.  Just stop half a minute,’ added he, thinking he might as well try and get something more out of him.  While Mr. Waffles was considering his next question, Mr. Buckram saved him the trouble of thinking by ’leading the gallop’ himself.

’I believe ’im to be a good oss, and I believe ‘im to be a bad oss,’ observed Mr. Buckram, sententiously.  ’I believe that oss, with a bold rider on his back, and well away with the ‘ounds, would beat most osses goin’, but it’s the start that’s the difficulty with him; for if, on the other ‘and, he don’t incline to go, all the spurrin’, and quiltin’, and leatherin’ in the world won’t make ‘im.  It’ll be a mercy o’ Providence if he don’t cut out work for the crowner some day.’

‘Hang the brute!’ exclaimed Mr. Waffles, in disgust; ’I’ve a good mind to have his throat cut.’

‘Nay,’ replied Mr. Buckram, brightening up, and stirring the silver round and round in his pocket like a whirlpool, ‘nay,’ replied he, ’he’s fit for summat better nor that.’

‘Not much, I think,’ replied Mr. Waffles, pouting with disgust.  He now stood silent for a few seconds.

‘Well, but what did they mean by hoping Mr. Sponge was fond of walking?’ at length asked he.