sell him?" says he. "Will I find the fool that'll buy him, yer
honour?"

"Bring him up to the old castle in the morning," says I, "and I may find
the fool that'll buy him."

"Begorra, sir," says he, "yer a gintleman. I'll be there with him at nine
o'clock, with a halter round his old ewe neck."

Next morning, at nine o'clock, just as the sergeant-major was reporting
as usual, "All correct," I saw my old friend leading his quadruped into
the barrack square. He was a quaint looking horse. He was particularly
full of corners, for he wasn't furnished up above at all. But he had
good-boned legs. His coat was by way of being a miracle to look at. He
had no particular colour to speak of. In some places he was a bit of a
roan--Taffy-like; round some other corners he was a dirty bay. In some
places, especially where for the last three days he had attempted to get
out of his harness at the bottom of the hill, there was no hair at all.
But he had a good-looking eye; he had good sound feet; good bone, though
his tail was hardly up to Cocker. Most of it, no doubt, was now part and
parcel of the car.

I can well remember the look of the correct and austere
sergeant-major--who himself was a bit of a sport, but who still
considered himself "on parade"--as he cast his eye over that noble
quadruped, and wondered what his lieutenant was about. I could see that
he was asking himself, "Is he going to run a circus, and is this going
to be the freak horse?"

"Mick," says I, "if I get a saddle on the horse, will you ride him; come
out with me and put him over a couple of jumps?"

"Shure, yer honour," says he, "an' so I will."

"Sergeant-major," says I, "tell my groom to put a saddle and bridle on
this Rosinante" (at the mention of which name the sergeant-major looked
perplexed) "and get one of the other horses ready for me."

In a few minutes Mick and I were riding down the old street, making for a
bit of open country. We soon came to a high road, bounded on each side by
fairly stiff, stone walls. Having come to a gate on one side I pulled
up.

"Now," says I, "Mick, are you game to go into that field and take the
double across the road?"

"Shure, I am," says he; "but 'tis a long day, yer honour, since I had a
jump. Would you lend me your whip? The old horse'll want it, it may be."

I gave him the whip, jumped off my nag, opened the gate, and away went
Mick into the field. It was a sight to do one good. There was Mick, what
he ca