“Are you satisfied?” said the landlord.  “Didn’t you tell me that he could leap?” I demanded.  “I am told he can,” said the landlord; “but I can’t consent that he should be tried in that way, as he might be damaged.”  “That’s right!” said Mr. Petulengro, “don’t trust my pal to leap that horse, he’ll merely fling him down, and break his neck and his own.  There’s a better man than he close by; let him get on his back and leap him.”  “You mean yourself, I suppose,” said the landlord.  “Well, I call that talking modestly, and nothing becomes a young man more than modesty.”  “It a’n’t I, daddy,” said Mr. Petulengro.  “Here’s the man,” said he, pointing to Tawno.  “Here’s the horse-leaper of the world!” “You mean the horse-back breaker,” said the landlord.  “That big fellow would break down my cousin’s horse.”  “Why, he weighs only sixteen stone,” said Mr. Petulengro.  “And his sixteen stone, with his way of handling a horse, does not press so much as any other one’s thirteen.  Only let him get on the horse’s back, and you’ll see what he can do!” “No,” said the landlord, “it won’t do.”  Whereupon Mr. Petulengro became very much excited; and pulling out a handful of money, said, “I’ll tell you what, I’ll forfeit these guineas, if my black pal there does the horse any kind of damage; duck me in the horse-pond if I don’t.”  “Well,” said the landlord, “for the sport of the thing I consent, so let your white pal get down, and our black pal mount as soon as he pleases.”  I felt rather mortified at Mr. Petulengro’s interference; and showed no disposition to quit my seat; whereupon he came up to me and said, “Now, brother, do get out of the saddle—­you are no bad hand at trotting, I am willing to acknowledge that; but at leaping a horse there is no one like Tawno.  Let every dog be praised for his own gift.  You have been showing off in your line for the last half-hour; now do give Tawno a chance of exhibiting a little; poor fellow, he hasn’t often a chance of exhibiting, as his wife keeps him so much out of sight.”  Not wishing to appear desirous of engrossing the public attention, and feeling rather desirous to see how Tawno, of whose exploits in leaping horses I had frequently heard, would acquit himself in the affair, I at length dismounted, and Tawno, at a bound, leaped into the saddle, where he really looked like Gunnar of Hlitharend, save and except the complexion of Gunnar was florid, whereas that of Tawno was of nearly Mulatto darkness; and that all Tawno’s features were cast in the Grecian model, whereas Gunnar had a snub nose.  “There’s a leaping-bar behind the house,” said the landlord.  “Leaping-bar!” said Mr. Petulengro, scornfully.  “Do you think my black pal ever rides at a leaping-bar?  No more than a windle-straw.  Leap over that meadow-wall, Tawno.”  Just past the house, in the direction in which I had been trotting, was a wall about four feet high, beyond which was a small meadow.  Tawno rode the horse gently up to the