He bought forty or fifty
during the time that Dodds was watching him.
"Who is that?" he asked his neighbour, whose spurs and gaiters showed
that he was likely to know.
The man stared in astonishment at the stranger's ignorance.
"Why, that's Jim Holloway, the great Jim Holloway," said he; then,
seeing by the blank look upon Dodds's face that even this information
had not helped him much, he went into details. "Sure he's the head of
Holloway & Morland, of London," said he. "He's the buying partner, and
he buys cheap; and the other stays at home and sells, and he sells dear.
He owns more horses than any man in the world, and asks the best money
for them. I dare say you'll find that half of what are sold at the
Dunsloe fair this day will go to him, and he's got such a purse that
there's not a man who can bid against him."
Worlington Dodds watched the doings of the great dealer with interest.
He had passed on now to the two-year-olds and three-year-olds,
full-grown horses, but still a little loose in the limb and weak in the
bone. The London buyer was choosing his animals carefully, but having
chosen them, the vigour of his competition drove all other bidders out
of it. With a careless nod he would run the figure up five pounds at a
time, until he was left in possession of the field.
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