will kill you--sooner or later you will perish beneath their feet. Good
are our horses, and good our riders--yea, very good are the Moslems at
mounting the horse; who are like them? I once saw a Frank rider compete
with a Moslem on this beach, and at first the Frank rider had it all his
own way, and he passed the Moslem. But the course was long, very long,
and the horse of the Frank rider, which was a Frank also, panted; but the
horse of the Moslem panted not, for he was a Moslem also, and the Moslem
rider at last gave a cry, and the horse sprang forward, and he overtook
the Frank horse, and then the Moslem rider stood up in his saddle. How
did he stand? Truly he stood on his head, and these eyes saw him. He
stood on his head in the saddle as he passed the Frank rider, and he
cried, Ha, ha! as he passed the Frank rider; and the Moslem horse cried,
Ha, ha! as he passed the Frank breed, and the Frank lost by a far
distance. Good are the Franks, good their horses; but better are the
Moslems, and better the horses of the Moslems.'"

It is said that he used to ride his black Andalusian horse in Madrid with
a Russian skin for a saddle and without stirrups. He had, he says, been
accustomed from childhood to ride without a saddle. Yet Borrow could do
without a horse. He never fails to make himself impressive. He stoops
to his knee to scare a huge and ferocious dog by looking him full in the
eyes. The spies, as he sat waiting for the magistrate at Madrid,
whisper, "He understands the seven Gypsy jargons," or "He can ride a
horse and dart a knife full as well as if he came from my own country."
The captain of the ship tells a friend in a low voice, overheard by
Borrow: "That fellow who is lying on the deck can speak Christian, too,
when it serves his purpose; but he speaks others which are by no means
Christian. He can talk English, and I myself have heard him chatter in
Gitano with the Gypsies of Triana. He is now going amongst the Moors;
and when he arrives in their country, you will hear him, should you be
there, converse as fluently in their gibberish as in Christiano--nay,
better, for he is no Christian himself. He has been several times on
board my vessel already; but I do not like him, as I consider that he
carries something about with him which is not good."

The American at Tangier is perplexed by his speaking both Moorish and
Gaelic, by hearing from an Irish woman that he is "a fairy man."

He does not