Neither of them touched on business during the meal, the conversation consisting chiefly of the runs that had lately taken place in the Old Country, with many an inferred compliment to the good riding of the possible purchaser.
Then Mr. Sawyer produced the Laranagas and offered one to Job, who bit it, and wet it, and smoked it, as men do who are more used to clay pipes, and then they went back to the stable to see the roan done up.
The gallop and the ale were working in Mr. Sawyer’s brain, but he didn’t see his way into the roan at a hundred; so he obstinately held his tongue. The dealer was obliged to break the ice.
“I’d take it very friendly of you, sir, if you’d give me your honest opinion of that horse,” said he, waving the Laranaga towards the animal. “I fancy he’s too good for our country; and I’ve a brother-in-law down in Rutland as wants to have him very bad. He’s just the cut, so he says, for these Melton gents; and he’s a good judge, is my brother-in-law, and a pretty rider to boot. He’d give me my price, too; but then, you know, sir, askin’ your pardon, it isn’t always ready money between relations; and that cuts the other way again, as a man may say. What do _you_ think, Mr. Sawyer?”
“I’ll find out what he wants for him, at any rate,” thought the customer. “What’s his figure?” was the abrupt rejoinder.
Mr. Sloper hesitated. “A hundred and—” _eighty_, he was going to say; but seeing his customer’s eye resting on the roan’s back-ribs—a point in which the horse was somewhat deficient—he dropped at once to seventy, and regretted it the next moment when he caught the expression of the listener’s face.
“It isn’t _even_ money,” answered Mr. Sawyer, without, however, making the same sort of face he had done several times before, when he had refused to give double the sum at which he had eventually purchased. “I should say you might get a hundred and twenty for him down there, if you’d luck. But it’s a great risk—a great risk—and a long distance; and perhaps have him sent back to you in the spring. If I wanted a horse, _I’d_ give you a hundred for him, though he isn’t exactly my sort. A hundred!—I’ll tell you what, Sloper, I’ll be hanged if I won’t _chance_ it—I’ll _give_ you a hundred—_guineas_—come! Money down, and no questions asked.”