At last
perceiving that the corporal was about to remove the saddle that he
might examine the back of the animal, I exclaimed:-
"Stay, ye chabes of Egypt, ye forget that ye are hundunares, and
are no longer paruguing grastes in the chardy."
The corporal at these words turned his face full upon me, and so
did all the rest. Yes, sure enough, there were the countenances of
Egypt, and the fixed filmy stare of eye. We continued looking at
each other for a minute at least, when the corporal, a villainous-
looking fellow, at last said, in the richest gypsy whine
imaginable, "the erray know us, the poor Calore! And he an
Englishman! Bullati! I should not have thought that there was
e'er a Busno would know us in these parts, where Gitanos are never
seen. Yes, your worship is right; we are all here of the blood of
the Calore; we are from Melegrana (Granada), your worship; they
took us from thence and sent us to the wars. Your worship is
right, the sight of that horse made us believe we were at home
again in the mercado of Granada; he is a countryman of ours, a real
Andalou. Por dios, your worship, sell us that horse; we are poor
Calore, but we can buy him."
"You forget that you are soldiers," said I. "How should you buy my
horse?"
"We are soldiers, your worship," said the corporal, "but we are
still Calore; we buy and sell bestis; the captain of our troop is
in league with us. We have been to the wars, but not to fight; we
left that to the Busne. We have kept together, and like true
Calore, have stood back to back. We have made money in the wars,
your worship. No tenga usted cuidao (be under no apprehension).
We can buy your horse."
Here he pulled out a purse, which contained at least ten ounces of
gold.
"If I were willing to sell," I replied, "what would you give me for
that horse?"
"Then your worship wishes to sell your horse - that alters the
matter. We will give ten dollars for your worship's horse. He is
good for nothing."
"How is this?" said I. "You this moment told me he was a fine
horse - an Andalusian, and a countryman of yours."
"No, Senor! we did not say that he was an Andalou. We said he was
an Estremou, and the worst of his kind. He is eighteen years old,
your worship, short-winded and galled."
"I do not wish to sell my horse," said I; "quite the contrary; I
had rather buy than sell."
"Your worship does not wish to sell your horse," said the Gypsy.
"Stay, your worship, we will give sixty dollars for your worship's
horse."
"I would not sell him for two hundred and sixty.
