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‘I do not think I could be fairly accused of that,’ I answered, with all the consciousness of innocence.

‘Just so–then buy me.’

‘No,’ I gasped: ‘after the extremely candid opinion you were good enough to express of my riding, I’m surprised that you should even suggest such a thing.’

‘Oh, I will put up with that–you will suit me well enough, I dare say.’

‘You must excuse me. I prefer to keep my spare cash for worthier objects; and, with your permission, I will spend the remainder of the afternoon on foot.’

‘You will do nothing of the sort,’ said he.

‘If you won’t stop, and let me get off properly,’ I said with firmness, ‘I shall roll off.’ There were some promenaders within easy hail; but how was I to word a call for help, how explain such a dilemma as mine?

‘You will only reduce me to the painful necessity of rolling on you,’ he replied. ‘You must see that you are to a certain extent in my power. Suppose it occurred to me to leap those rails and take you into the Serpentine, or to run away and upset a mounted policeman with you–do you think you could offer much opposition?’

I could not honestly assert that I did. ‘You were introduced to me,’ I said reproachfully, ‘as a kind horse!’

‘And so I am–apart from matters of business. Come, will you buy, or be bolted with? I hate indecision!’

‘Buy!’ I said, with commercial promptness. ‘If you will take me back, I will arrange about it at once.’

It is needless to say that my one idea was to get safely off his back: after which, neither honour nor law could require me to execute a contract extorted from me by threats. But, as we were going down the mews, he said reflectively, ‘I’ve been thinking–it will be better for all parties, if you make your offer to my proprietor before you dismount.’ I was too vexed to speak: this animal’s infernal intelligence had foreseen my manoeuvre–he meant to foil it, if he could.

And then we clattered in under the glass-roofed yard of the livery stables; and the job-master, who was alone there, cast his eyes up at the sickly-faced clock, as if he were comparing its pallor with my own. ‘Why, you are home early, sir,’ he said. ‘You didn’t find the ‘orse too much for you, did you?’ He said this without any suspicion of the real truth; and, indeed, I may say, once for all, that this weird horse–Houyhnhnm, or whatever else he might be–admitted no one but myself into the secret of his marvellous gifts, and in all his conversations with me, managed (though how, I cannot pretend to say) to avoid being overheard.

‘Oh, dear no,’ I protested, ‘he carried me admirably–admirably!’ and I made an attempt to slip off.

No such thing: Brutus instantly jogged my memory, and me, by the slightest suggestion of a ‘buck.’

‘He’s a grand ‘orse, sir, isn’t he?’ said the job-master complacently.

‘M–magnificent!’ I agreed, with a jerk. ‘Will you go to his head, please?’

But the horse backed into the centre of the yard, where he plunged with a quiet obstinacy. ‘I like him so much,’ I called out, as I clung to the saddle, ‘that I want to know if you’re at all inclined to part with him?’ Here Brutus became calm and attentive.

‘Would you be inclined to make me a orfer for him, sir?’

‘Yes,’ I said faintly. ‘About how much would he be?’

‘You step into my orfice here, sir,’ said he, ‘and we’ll talk it over.’

I should have been only too willing, for there was no room there for the horse, but the suspicious animal would not hear of it: he began to revolve immediately.

‘Let us settle it now–here,’ I said, ‘I can’t wait.’

The job-master stroked away a grin. No doubt there was something unbusinesslike and unpractical in such precipitation, especially as combined with my appearance at the time.