'Here, Tom! Joe! Harry! where's Sam ?' giving the little tinkler of a bell a pull as he spoke.
'Sam be in the straw 'ouse,' replied Leather, passing through a stable into a wooden projection beyond, where the gentleman in question was enjoying a nap.
'Sam!' said he, 'Sam!' repeated he, in a louder tone, as he saw the object of his search's nose popping through the midst of the straw.
'What now ?' exclaimed Sam, starting up, and looking wildly around; 'what now ?' repeated he, rubbing his eyes with the backs of his hands.
'Get out Ercles,' said Leather, _sotto voce_.
The lad was a mere stripling--some fifteen or sixteen, years, perhaps--tall, slight, and neat, with dark hair and eyes, and was dressed in a brown jacket--a real boy's jacket, without laps, white cords, and top-boots.

It was his business to risk his neck and limbs at all hours of the day, on all sorts of horses, over any sort of place that any person chose to require him to put a horse at, and this he did with the daring pleasure of youth as yet undaunted by any serious fall.

Sam now bestirred himself to get out the horse.

The clambering of hoofs presently announced his approach.
Whether Hercules was called Hercules on account of his amazing strength, or from a fanciful relationship to the famous horse of that name, we know not; but his strength and his colour would favour either supposition.

He was an immense, tall, powerful, dark brown, sixteen hands horse, with an arched neck and crest, well set on, clean, lean head, and loins that looked as if they could shoot a man into the next county.