"I saw them as I rode up. And a fine lot they are; but of too good a stamp
for my short purse, or for my holy master's riding,--a fat priest likes a
quiet nag, my master."
"Humph. Well, if quietness is what you need, there is a mare down there, a
child might ride her with a thread of wool. But as for price,--and she has
a colt, too, running by her."
"Ah?" quoth the horseman. "Well, your Walcheren folk make good milk,
that's certain. A colt by her? That's awkward. My Lord does not like young
horses; and it would be troublesome, too, to take the thing along with
me."
The less anxious the dealer seemed to buy, the more anxious grew Dirk to
sell; but he concealed his anxiety, and let the stranger turn away,
thanking him for his drink.
"I say!" he called after him. "You might look at her as you ride past the
herd."
The stranger assented, and they went down into the fen, and looked over
the precious mare, whose feats were afterwards sung by many an English
fireside, or in the forest, beneath the hollins green, by such as Robin
Hood and his merry men. The ugliest, as well as the swiftest, of mares,
she was, say the old chroniclers; and it was not till the stranger had
looked twice at her, that he forgot her great chuckle head,
greyhound-flanks, and drooping hind-quarters, and began to see the great
length of those same quarters,--the thighs let down into the hocks, the
arched loin, the extraordinary girth through the saddle, the sloping
shoulder, the long arms, the flat knees, the large, well-set hoofs, and
all the other points which showed her strength and speed, and justified
her fame.
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