As I did so I saw approaching a gentleman who was looking with interest
at my mount. He was one of the most striking men I have ever seen, a
stranger as I could see, for I knew each family on both sides the Blue
Ridge as far up the valley as White Sulphur.

"A grand animal you have there, sir," said he, accosting Me. "I did not
know his like existed in this country."

"As well in this as in any country," said I tartly. He smiled at this.

"You know his breeding?"

"Klingwalla out of Bonnie Waters."

"No wonder he's vicious," said the stranger, calmly.

"Ah, you know something of the English strains," said I. He shrugged his
shoulders. "As much as that," he commented indifferently.

There was something about him I did not fancy, a sort of condescension,
as though he were better than those about him. They say that we
Virginians have a way of reserving that right to ourselves; and I
suppose that a family of clean strain may perhaps become proud after
generations of independence and comfort and freedom from care. None the
less I was forced to admit this newcomer to the class of gentlemen. He
stood as a gentleman, with no resting or bracing with an arm, or
crossing of legs or hitching about, but balanced on his legs
easily--like a fencer or boxer or fighting man, or gentleman, in short.
His face, as I now perceived, was long and thin, his chin square,