as about
to push his horse to a gallop, when a figure started forward close from
beside me, and laying his hand on his neck, and pulling him gently
downward, appeared to whisper something into his ear; presently the tall
man raised his head, and, scanning the crowd for a moment in the
direction in which I was standing, fixed his eyes full upon me, and anon
the countenance of the whisperer was turned, but only in part, and the
side-glance of another pair of wild eyes was directed towards my face,
but the entire visage of the big black man, half stooping as he was, was
turned full upon mine.
But now, with a nod to the figure who had stopped him, and with another
inquiring glance at myself, the big man once more put his steed into
motion, and, after riding round the ring a few more times, darted through
a lane in the crowd, and followed by his two companions disappeared,
whereupon the figure who had whispered to him, and had subsequently
remained in the middle of the space, came towards me, and, cracking a
whip which he held in his hand so loudly that the report was nearly equal
to that of a pocket pistol, he cried in a strange tone:
"What! the sap-engro? {156} Lor! the sap-engro upon the hill!"
"I remember that word," said I, "and I almost think I remember you. You
can't be--"
"Jasper, your pal! Truth, and no lie, brother."
"It is strange that you should have known me," said I. "I am certain,
but for the word you used, I should never have recognised you."
"Not so strange as you may think, brother; there is something in your
face which would prevent people from forgetting you, even though they
might wish it; and your face is not much altered since the time you wot
of, though you are so much grown. I thought it was you, but to make sure
I dodged about, inspecting you. I believe you felt me, though I never
touched you; a sign, brother, that we are akin, that we are dui palor--two
relations. Your blood beat when mine was near, as mine always does at
the coming of a brother; and we became brothers in that lane."
"And where are you staying?" said I; "in this town?"
"Not in the town; the like of us don't find it exactly wholesome to stay
in towns, we keep abroad. But I have little to do here--come with me,
and I'll show you where we stay."
We descended the hill in the direction of the north, and passing along
the suburb reached the old Norman bridge, which we crossed; the chalk
precipice, with the ruin
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