While the thought was rankling in my mind, the auctioneer came skurrying through the plaza on a black beast that had as many humps and corners on him as a dromedary, and was necessarily uncomely; but he was “going, going, at twenty-two!—­horse, saddle and bridle at twenty-two dollars, gentlemen!” and I could hardly resist.

A man whom I did not know (he turned out to be the auctioneer’s brother) noticed the wistful look in my eye, and observed that that was a very remarkable horse to be going at such a price; and added that the saddle alone was worth the money.  It was a Spanish saddle, with ponderous ‘tapidaros’, and furnished with the ungainly sole-leather covering with the unspellable name.  I said I had half a notion to bid.  Then this keen-eyed person appeared to me to be “taking my measure”; but I dismissed the suspicion when he spoke, for his manner was full of guileless candor and truthfulness.  Said he: 

“I know that horse—­know him well.  You are a stranger, I take it, and so you might think he was an American horse, maybe, but I assure you he is not.  He is nothing of the kind; but—­excuse my speaking in a low voice, other people being near—­he is, without the shadow of a doubt, a Genuine Mexican Plug!”

I did not know what a Genuine Mexican Plug was, but there was something about this man’s way of saying it, that made me swear inwardly that I would own a Genuine Mexican Plug, or die.

“Has he any other—­er—­advantages?” I inquired, suppressing what eagerness I could.

He hooked his forefinger in the pocket of my army-shirt, led me to one side, and breathed in my ear impressively these words: 

“He can out-buck anything in America!”

“Going, going, going—­at twent—­ty—­four dollars and a half, gen—­”

“Twenty-seven!” I shouted, in a frenzy.

“And sold!” said the auctioneer, and passed over the Genuine Mexican Plug to me.

I could scarcely contain my exultation.  I paid the money, and put the animal in a neighboring livery-stable to dine and rest himself.

In the afternoon I brought the creature into the plaza, and certain citizens held him by the head, and others by the tail, while I mounted him.  As soon as they let go, he placed all his feet in a bunch together, lowered his back, and then suddenly arched it upward, and shot me straight into the air a matter of three or four feet!  I came as straight down again, lit in the saddle, went instantly up again, came down almost on the high pommel, shot up again, and came down on the horse’s neck—­all in the space of three or four seconds.  Then he rose and stood almost straight up on his hind feet, and I, clasping his lean neck desperately, slid back into the saddle and held on.  He came down, and immediately hoisted his heels into the air, delivering a vicious kick at the sky, and stood on his forefeet.  And then down he came once more, and began the original exercise of shooting me straight up again.  The third time I went up I heard a stranger say: