A SPORTSMAN'S SKETCHES
dragged the stable-boy about the yard; at last he was pushed against the wall. He snorted, started and reared, while Sitnikov still teased him, brandishing a whip at him.
'What are you looking at? there! oo!' said the horsedealer with caressing menace, unable to refrain from admiring his horse himself.
'How much?' asked the prince.
'For your excellency, five thousand.'
'Three.'
'Impossible, your excellency, upon my word.'
'I tell you three, rrakalion,' put in Hlopakov.
I went away without staying to see the end of the bargaining. At the farthest corner of the street I noticed a large sheet of paper fixed on the gate of a little grey house. At the top there was a pen-and-ink sketch of a horse with a tail of the shape of a pipe and an endless neck, and below his hoofs were the following words, written in an old-fashioned hand:
'Here are for sale horses of various colours, brought to the Lebedyan fair from the celebrated steppes stud of Anastasei Ivanitch Tchornobai, landowner of Tambov. These horses are of excellent sort; broken in to perfection, and free from vice. Purchasers will kindly ask for Anastasei Ivanitch himself: should Anastasei Ivanitch be absent, then ask for Nazar Kubishkin, the coachman. Gentlemen about to purchase, kindly honour an old man.'
I stopped. 'Come,' I thought, 'let's have a look
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