his faithful brother, that he had almost turned the horses head towards home again. Godfrey would be ready enough to accept the suggestion: he would snatch eagerly at a plan that might save him from parting with Wildfire. But when Dunstan's meditation reached this point, the inclination to go on grew strong and prevailed. He didn't want to give Godfrey that pleasure: he preferred that Master Godfrey should be vexed. Moreover, Dunstan enjoyed the self-important consciousness of having a horse to sell, and the opportunity of driving a bargain, swaggering, and, possibly, taking somebody in. He might have all the satisfaction attendant on selling his brother's horse, and not the less have the further satisfaction of setting Godfrey to borrow Marner's money. So he rode on to cover.
Bryce and Keating were there, as Dunstan was quite sure they would be—he was such a lucky fellow.
'Hey-day!' said Bryce, who had long had his eye on Wildfire, 'you're on your brother's horse to-day: how's that?'
'O, I've swopped with him,' said Dunstan, whose delight in lying, grandly independent of utility, was not to be diminished by the likelihood that his hearer would not believe him—'Wildfire's mine now.'
'What! has he swopped with you for that big-boned hack of yours?' said Bryce, quite aware that he should get another lie in answer.
'O, there was a little account between us,' said Dunsey, carelessly, 'and Wildfire made it even.
