"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 him."
"Well, I'm blest," exclaimed Mr. Hawkins; "and you don't look like a
hossey gent either, guv'nor."
"I am not a 'horsey gent.' I don't want the 'Buffalo' for myself. I
want him for a hunting-friend. If you can get me the brute a dead
bargain, say for twenty pounds, and can get a week's holiday to bring
him down to my friend's place in the country, I'll give you a five-
pound note for your trouble."
The eyes of Mr. Hawkins glittered with the greed of gold as Victor
Carrington said this; but, eager as he was to secure the tempting
prize, he did not reply very quickly.
"Well, you see, guv'nor, I don't think Mr. Spavin would consent to sell
the 'Buffalo' yet awhile. He'd be afraid of mischief, you know. He's a
very stiff 'un, is Spavin, and he comes it uncommon bumptious about his
character, and so on. I really don't think he'd sell the 'Buffalo' till
he's broke, and the deuce knows how long it may take to break him."
"Oh, nonsense; Spavin would be glad to get rid of the beast, depend
upon it. You've only got to say you want him for a friend of yours, a
jockey, who'll break him in better than any of Spavin's people could do
it."
James Hawkins rubbed his chin thoughtfully.
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