'Vy we 'ave Rumbleton in,' replied Leather, thoughtfully, stroking down his
hair as he spoke, 'and we 'ave Jack o'Lanthorn in, and we 'ave the Camel
in, and there's the little Hirish oss with the sprig tail--Jack-a-Dandy, as
I calls him, and the Flyer will be in to-night, he's just out a hairing, as
it were, with old Mr. Callipash.'
'Ah, Rumbleton won't do for Mr. Sponge,' observed Buckram, thoughtfully, at
the same time letting go a tremendous avalanche of silver down his trouser
pocket, 'Rumbleton won't do,' repeated he, 'nor Jack-a-Dandy nouther.'
'Why, I wouldn't commend neither on 'em,' replied Peter, taking his cue
from his master, 'only ven you axes me vot there's in, you knows vy I must
give you a _cor_-rect answer, in course.'
'In course,' nodded Buckram.
Leather and Buckram had a good understanding in the lying line, and had
fallen into a sort of tacit arrangement that if the former was staunch
about the horses he was at liberty to make the best terms he could for
himself. Whatever Buckram said, Leather swore to, and they had established
certain signals and expressions that each understood.
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