Run to Earth, Mary Elizabeth Braddon [classic literature books txt] 📗

Carrington. The surgeon stood at a little distance from them, absorbed by the scene before him; but it was to be observed that his attention was given less to the horses than the men who brought them out of their boxes.

At one of these men he looked with peculiar intensity; and this man was certainly not calculated to attract the observation of a stranger by any personal advantages of his own. He was a wizened little man, with red hair, a bullet-shaped head, and small, rat-like eyes.

This man had very little to do with the display of the horses; but once, when there was a pause in the business, he opened the door of a loose-box, went in, and presently emerged, leading a handsome bay, whose splendid head was reared in a defiant attitude, as the fiery eyeballs surveyed the yard.

"Isn't that 'Wild Buffalo?'" asked Mr. Spavin.

"Yes, sir."

"Then you ought to know better than to bring him out," exclaimed the horse-dealer, angrily. "These gentlemen want a horse that a Christian can ride, and the 'Buffalo' isn't fit to be ridden by a Christian; not yet awhile at any rate. I mean to take the devil out of him before I've done with him, though," added Mr. Spavin, casting a vindictive glance at the horse.

"He is rather a handsome animal," said Sir Reginald Eversleigh.

"Oh, yes, he's handsome enough," answered the dealer. "His looks are no discredit to him; but handsome is as handsome does--that's my motter; and if I'd known the temper of that beast when Captain Chesterly offered him to me, I'd have seen the captain farther before I consented to buy him. However, there he is; I've got him, and I must make the best of him. But Jack Spavin is not the man to sell such a beast to a customer until the wickedness is taken out of him. When the wickedness is taken out of him, he'll be at your service, gentlemen, with Jack Spavin's best wishes."

The horse was taken back to his box. Victor watched the animal and the groom with an intensely earnest gaze as they disappeared from his sight.

"That's a curious-looking fellow, that groom of yours," Sir Reginald said to the horse-dealer.

"What, Hawkins--Jim Hawkins? Yes; his looks won't make his fortune. He's a hard-working fellow enough in his way; but he's something like the horse in the matter of temper. But I think I've taken the devil out of _him_," said Mr. Spavin, with an ominous crack of his heavy riding- whip.

More horses were brought out, examined, discussed, and taken back to their boxes. Mr. Spavin knew he had to deal with a good customer, and he wished to show off the resources of his stable.

"Bring out 'Niagara,'" he said, presently, and in a few minutes a groom emerged from one of the stables, leading a magnificent bay. "Now, gentlemen," said Mr. Spavin, "that animal is own brother to 'Wild Buffalo,' and if it had not been for my knowledge of that animal's merits I should never have bought the 'Buffalo.' Now, there's apt to be a good deal of difference between human beings of the same family; but perhaps you'd hardly believe the difference there can be between horses of the same blood. That animal is as sweet a temper as you'd wish to have in a horse--and 'Buffalo' is a devil; yet, if you were to see the two horses side by side, you'd scarcely know which was which."

"Indeed!" exclaimed Sir Reginald; "I should like, for the curiosity of the thing, to see the two animals together."

Mr. Spavin gave his orders, and presently Jim Hawkins, the queer- looking groom, brought out "Wild Buffalo."

The two horses were indeed exactly alike in all physical attributes, and the man who could have distinguished one from the other must have had a very keen eye.

"There they are, gents, as like as two peas, and if it weren't for a small splash of white on the inner side of 'Buffalo's' left hock, there's very few men in my stable could tell one from the other."

Victor Carrington, observing that Dale was talking to the horse-dealer, drew near the animal, with the air of an interested stranger, and stooped to examine the white mark. It was a patch about as large as a crown-piece.

"'Niagara' seems a fine creature," he said.

"Yes," replied a groom; "I don't think there's many better horses in the place than 'Niagara.'"

When Douglas Dale returned to the examination of the two horses, Victor Carrington drew Sir Reginald aside, unperceived by Dale.

"I want you to choose the horse 'Niagara' for Lionel Dale," he said, when they were beyond the hearing of Douglas.

"Why that horse in particular?"

"Never mind why," returned Carrington, impatiently. "You can surely do as much as that to oblige me."

"Be it so," answered Sir Reginald, with assumed carelessness; "the horse seems a good one."

There was a little more talk and consultation, and then Douglas Dale asked his cousin which horse he liked best among those they had seen.

"Well, upon my word, if you ask my opinion, I think there is no better horse than that bay they call 'Niagara;' and if you and Spavin can agree as to price, you may settle the business without further hesitation."

Douglas Dale acted immediately upon the baronet's advice. He went into Mr. Spavin's little counting-house, and wrote a cheque for the price of the horse on the spot, much to that gentleman's satisfaction. While Douglas Dale was writing this cheque, Victor Carrington waited in the yard outside the counting-house.

He took this opportunity of addressing Hawkins, the groom.

"I want a job done in your line," he said, "and I think you'd be just the man to manage it for me. Have you any spare time?"

"I've an hour or two, now and then, of a night, after my work's over," answered the man.

"At what time, and where, are you to be met with after your work?"

"Well, sir, my own home is too poor a place for a gentleman like you to come to; but if you don't object to a public--and a very respectable public, too, in its way--there's the 'Goat and Compasses,' three doors down the little street as you'll see on your left, as you leave this here yard, walking towards London."

"Yes, yes," interrupted Victor, impatiently; "you are to be found at the 'Goat and Compasses'?"

"I mostly am, sir, after nine o'clock of an evening--summer and winter--"

"That will do," exclaimed Victor, with a quick glance at the door of the counting-house. "I will see you at the 'Goat and Compasses' to- night, at nine. Hush!"

Eversleigh and his cousin were just emerging from the counting-house, as Victor Carrington gave the groom a warning gesture.

"Mum's the word," muttered the man.

Sir Reginald Eversleigh and Douglas Dale took their places in the phaeton, and drove away.

Victor Carrington arrived at half-past eight at the "Goat and Compasses"--a shabby little public-house in a shabby little street. Here he found Mr. Hawkins lounging in the bar, waiting for him, and beguiling the time by the consumption of a glass of gin.

"There's no one in the parlour, sir," said Hawkins, as he recognized Mr. Carrington; "and if you'll step in there, we shall be quite private. I suppose there ain't no objection to this gent and me stepping into the parlour, is there, Mariar?" Mr. Hawkins asked of a young lady, in a very smart cap, who officiated as barmaid.

"Well, you ain't a parlour customer in general, Mr. Hawkins; but I suppose if the gent wants to speak to you, there'll be no objection to your making free with the parlour, promiscuous," answered the damsel, with supreme condescension. "And if the gent has any orders to give, I'm ready to take 'em," she added, pertly.

Victor Carrington ordered a pint of brandy.

The parlour was a dingy little apartment, very much the worse for stale tobacco smoke, and adorned with gaudy racing-prints. Here Mr. Carrington seated himself, and told his companion to take the place opposite him.

"Fill yourself a glass of brandy," he said. And Mr. Hawkins was not slow to avail himself of the permission. "Now, I'm a man who does not care to beat about the bush, my friend Hawkins," said Victor, "so I'll come to business at once. I've taken a fancy to that bay horse, 'Wild Buffalo,' and I should like to have him; but I'm not a rich man, and I can't afford a high price for my fancy. What I've been thinking, Hawkins, is that, with your help, I might get 'Wild Buffalo' a bargain?"

"Well, I should rather flatter myself you might, guv'nor," answered the groom, coolly, "an uncommon good bargain, or an uncommon bad one, according to the working out of circumstances. But between friends, supposing that you was me, and supposing that I was you, you know, I wouldn't have him at no price--no, not if Spavin sold him to you for nothing, and threw you in a handsome pair of tops and a bit of pink gratis likewise."

Mr. Hawkins had taken a second glass of brandy by this time; and the brandy provided by Victor Carrington, taken in conjunction with the gin purchased by himself was beginning to produce a lively effect upon his spirits.

"The horse is a dangerous animal to handle, then?" asked Victor.

"When you can ride a flash of lightning, and hold that well in hand, you may be able to ride 'Wild Buffalo,' guv'nor," answered the groom, sententiously; "but _till_ you have got your hand in with a flash of lightning, I wouldn't recommend you to throw your leg across the 'Buffalo.'"

"Come, come," remonstrated Victor, "a good rider could manage the brute, surely?"

"Not the cove as drove a mail-phaeton and pair in the skies, and was chucked out of it, which served him right--not even that sky-larking cove could hold in the 'Buffalo.' He's got a mouth made of cast-iron, and there ain't a curb made, work 'em how you will, that's any more to him than a lady's bonnet-ribbon. He got a good name for his jumping as a steeple-chaser; but when he'd been the death of three jocks and two gentlemen riders, folks began to get rather shy of him and his jumping; and then Captain Chesterly come and planted him on my guv'nor, which more fool my governor to take him at any price, says I. And now, sir, I've stood your friend, and give you a honest warning; and perhaps it ain't going too far to say that I've saved your life, in a manner of speaking. So I hope you'll bear in mind that I'm a poor man with a fambly, and that I can't afford to waste my time in giving good advice to strange gents for nothing."

Victor Carrington took out his purse, and handed Mr. Hawkins a sovereign. A look of positive rapture mingled with the habitual cunning of the groom's countenance as he received this donation.

"I call that handsome, guv'nor," he exclaimed, "and I ain't above saying so."

"Take another glass of brandy, Hawkins."

"Thank you kindly, sir; I don't care if I do," answered the groom; and again he replenished his glass with the coarse and fiery spirit.

"I've given you that sovereign because I believe you are an honest fellow," said the surgeon. "But in spite of the bad character you have given the 'Buffalo' I should like to get