Mr. Sponge's Sporting Tour

by Robert Smith Surtees

  CHAPTER XI

  THE DEAL, AND THE DISASTER

  If people are inclined to deal, bargains can very soon be struck at idlewatering-places, where anything in the shape of occupation is a godsend,and bargainers know where to find each other in a minute. Everybody knowswhere everybody is.

  'Have you seen Jack Sprat?'

  'Oh yes; he's just gone into Muddle's Bazaar with Miss Flouncey, lookinguncommon sweet.' Or--

  'Can you tell me where I shall find Mr. Slowman?'

  Answer.--'You'll find him at his lodgings, No. 15, Belvidere Terrace, tilla quarter before seven. He's gone home to dress, to dine with Major andMrs. Holdsworthy, at Grunton Villa, for I heard him order Jenkins's fly atthat time.'

  Caingey Thornton knew exactly when he would find Mr. Waffles at MissLollypop's, the confectioner, eating ices and making love to that veryinteresting much-courted young lady. True to his time, there was Waffles,eating and eyeing the cherry-coloured ribbons, floating in graceful curlsalong with her raven-coloured ringlets, down Miss Lollypop's nice freshplump cheeks.

  After expatiating on the great merits of the horse, and the certainty ofgetting all the money back by steeple-chasing him in the spring, andstating his conviction that Mr. Sponge would not take any part of thepurchase-money in pictures or jewellery, or anything of that sort, Mr.Waffles gave his consent to deal, on the terms the following conversationshows.

  'My friend will give you your price, if you wouldn't mind taking his chequeand keeping it for a few months till he's into funds,' observed Mr.Thornton, who now sought Mr. Sponge out at the billiard-room.

  'Why,' observed Mr. Sponge, thoughtfully, 'you know horses are always readymoney.'

  'True,' replied Thornton; 'at least that's the theory of the thing; onlymy friend is rather peculiarly situated at present.'

  'I suppose Mr. Waffles is your man?' observed Mr. Sponge, rightly judgingthat there couldn't be two such flats in the place.

  'Just so,' said Mr. Thornton.

  MR. WAFFLES AT MISS LOLLYPOP'S]

  'I'd rather take his "stiff" than his cheque,' observed Mr. Sponge, after apause. 'I could get a bit of stiff _done_, but a cheque, yousee--especially a post-dated one--is always objected to.'

  'Well, I dare say that will make no difference,' observed Mr. Thornton,'"stiff," if you prefer it--say three months; or perhaps you'll give usfour?'

  'Three's long enough, in all conscience,' replied Mr. Sponge, with a shakeof the head, adding, 'Bullfrog made me pay down on the nail.'

  'Well, so be it, then,' assented Mr. Thornton; 'you draw at three months,and Mr. Waffles will accept, payable at Coutts's.'

  After so much liberality, Mr. Caingey expected that Mr. Sponge would havehinted at something handsome for him; but all Sponge said was, 'So be it,'too, as he walked away to buy a bill-stamp.

  Mr. Waffles was more considerate, and promised him the first mount on hisnew purchase, though Caingey would rather have had a ten, or even afive-pound note.

  Towards the hour of ten on that eventful day, numerous gaitered, trousered,and jacketed grooms began to ride up and down the High Street, most of themwith their stirrups crossed negligently on the pommels of the saddles, toindicate that their masters were going to ride the horses, and not them.The street grew lively, not so much with people going to hunt, as withpeople coming to see those who were. Tattered Hibernians, with rags ontheir backs and jokes on their lips; young English _chevaliersd'industrie_, with their hands ready to dive into anybody's pockets buttheir own; stablemen out of place, servants loitering on their errands,striplings helping them, ladies'-maids with novels or three-corner'd notes,and a good crop of beggars.

  'What, Spareneck, do you ride the grey to-day? I thought you'd doneGooseman out of a mount,' observed Ensign Downley, as a line ofscarlet-coated youths hung over the balcony of the Imperial Hotel, afterbreakfast and before mounting for the day.

  Spareneck.--'No, that's for Tuesday. He wouldn't stand one to-day. What doyou ride?'

  Downley.--'Oh, I've a hack, one of Screwman's, Perpetual Motion they callhim, because he never gets any rest. That's him, I believe, with thelofty-actioned hind-legs,' added he, pointing to a weedy string-halty baypassing below, high in bone and low in flesh.

  'Who's o' the gaudy chestnut?' asked Caingey Thornton, who now appeared,wiping his fat lips after his second glass of _eau de vie_.

  'That's Mr. Sponge's,' replied Spareneck in a low tone, knowing how soon aman catches his own name.

  'A deuced fine horse he is, too,' observed Caingey, in a louder key;adding, 'Sponge has the finest lot of horses of any man in England--in theworld, I may say.'

  Mr. Sponge himself now rose from the breakfast table, and was speedilyfollowed by Mr. Waffles and the rest of the party, some bearingsofa-pillows and cushions to place on the balustrades, to loll at theirease, in imitation of the Coventry Club swells in Piccadilly. Then ourfriends smoked their cigars, reviewed the cavalry, and criticised theladies who passed below in the flys on their way to the meet.

  'Come, old Bolter!' exclaimed one, 'here's Miss Bussington coming to lookafter you--got her mamma with her, too--so you may as well knock under atonce, for she's determined to have you.'

  'A devil of a woman the old un is, too,' observed Ensign Downley; 'shenearly frightened Jack Simpers of ours into fits, by asking what he meantafter dancing three dances with her daughter one night.'

  'My word, but Miss Jumpheavy must expect to do some execution to-day withthat fine floating feather and her crimson satin dress and ermine,'observed Mr. Waffles, as that estimable lady drove past in her Victoriaphaeton. 'She looks like the Queen of Sheba herself. But come, I suppose,'he added, taking a most diminutive Geneva watch out of hiswaistcoat-pocket, 'we should be going. See! there's your nag kicking up ashindy,' he said to Caingey Thornton, as the redoubtable brown was led downthe street by a jean-jacketed groom, kicking and lashing out at everythinghe came near.

  'I'll kick him,' observed Thornton, retiring from the balcony to thebrandy-bottle, and helping himself to a pretty good-sized glass. He thenextricated his large cutting whip from the confusion of whips with whichit was mixed, and clonk, clonk, clonked downstairs to the door.

  'Multum in Parvo' stopped the doorway, across whose shoulder Leather passedthe following hints, in a low tone of voice, to Mr. Sponge, as the latterstood drawing on his dogskin gloves, the observed, as he flattered himself,of all observers.

  'Mind now,' said Leather, 'this oss as a will of his own; though he seemsso quiet like, he's not always to be depended on; so be on the look-out forsqualls.'

  Sponge, having had a glass of brandy, just mounted with the air of a manthoroughly at home with his horse, and drawing the rein, with a slight feelof the spur, passed on from the door to make way for the redoubtableHercules. Hercules was evidently not in a good humour. His ears were laidback, and the rolling white eye showed mischief. Sponge saw all this, andturned to see whether Thornton's clumsy, wash-ball seat, would be able tocontrol the fractious spirit of the horse.

  'Whoay!' roared Thornton, as his first dive at the stirrup missed, and wasanswered by a hearty kick out from the horse, the 'whoay' being given in avery different tone to the gentle, coaxing style of Mr. Buckram and hismen. Had it not been for the brandy within and the lookers-on without,there is no saying but Caingey would have declined the horse's furtheracquaintance. As it was, he quickly repeated his attempt at the stirrupwith the same sort of domineering 'whoay,' adding, as he landed in thesaddle and snatched at the reins, 'Do you think I stole you?'

  Whatever the horse's opinion might be on that point, he didn't seem to careto express it, for finding kicking alone wouldn't do, he immediatelycommenced rearing too, and by a desperate plunge, broke away from thegroom, before Thornton had either got him by the head or his feet in thestirrups. Three most desperate bounds he gave, rising at the bit as thoughhe would come back over if the hold was not relaxed, and the fourth effortbringing him to the opposite kerb-stone, he up again with such a bound andimpet
us that he crashed right through Messrs. Frippery and Flummery's fineplate-glass window, to the terror and astonishment of their elegant youngcounter-skippers, who were busy arranging their ribbons and finery for theday. Right through the window Hercules went, switching through book muslinsand bareges as he would through a bullfinch, and attempting to make hisexit by a large plate-glass mirror against the wall of the cloak-roombeyond, which he dashed all to pieces with his head. Worse remains to betold. 'Multum in Parvo,' seeing his old comrade's hind-quartersdisappearing through the window, just took the bit between his teeth, andfollowed, in spite of Mr. Sponge's every effort to turn him; and when atlength he got him hauled round, the horse was found to have decoratedhimself with a sky-blue _visite_ trimmed with Honiton lace, which he worelike a charger on his way to the Crusades, or a steed bearing a knight tothe Eglinton tournament.

  Quick as it happened, and soon as it was over, all Laverick Wells seemed tohave congregated in the street as our heroes rode out of the foldingglass-doors.