“It cannot be so very dreadful if you can manage to pay such neat compliments Mr.—Anstruther.”

“You find that name a bit troublesome, eh?”

“Don’t you think you are worth taking some trouble for? But it is hard.”

“Lucky that I’m going to change it while we are together.”

“Change it?”

“We’ll talk that all over on the road to Pulta. Here’s the place where I hope to get the horse. It may take a little time. Will you wait for me?”

There is a rough kind of recognized procedure in horsedealing in that district; but as I had had[43] more than one experience of the kind I knew how to act.

[43]

I crossed to the house and seeing a light in the stable behind, guessed I should find the man bedding his horses. He did not know me, but I had heard of him.

“Good-evening, Andreas,” I said in a rather surly tone, as if I had a grievance against him; and without another word I walked up to the four horses one after the other and looked them over. He took no notice, but went on forking the bedding. This was all strictly in accordance with etiquette.

I came out of the last stall shrugging my shoulders and laughing contemptuously. “Blauben is a little fool. He said I should find some horses here. Good-night. There isn’t one worth a couple of roubles.”

The last sentence he understood to mean that I might possibly deal. He dashed his fork on the ground and came toward me, saying very angrily: “What’s that? Who are you? Who sent you here?”

“Old Blauben at the station.”

“And do you think you know anything about horses? You don’t know even how to look at them?”

“I have a chestnut that’s worth the whole string. I thought there was something to buy here. I suppose he thought I wanted meat for a bouillon factory. Good-night.”

“Wait, there, wait, you long imp of ignorance.[44] Do you want to make a match with your chestnut? Where is it?”

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