Towards the end of the preceding season he had overreached himself and had been lame, and had been sold by some owner with more money than brains who had not cared to wait for a cure.

Then there had gone with him a bad character, and a vague suspicion had attached itself to him, as there does to hundreds of horses which are very good animals in their way.
He had come thus to Tattersall's, and Vavasor had bought him cheap, thinking that he might make money of him, from his form and action.
He had found nothing amiss with him,--nor, indeed, had Bat Smithers.
But his character went with him, and therefore Bat Smithers thought it well to be knowing.

George Vavasor knew as much of horses as most men can,--as, perhaps, as any man can who is not a dealer, or a veterinary surgeon; but he, like all men, doubted his own knowledge, though on that subject he would never admit that he doubted it.
Therefore he took Bat's word and felt sure that the horse was wrong.
"We shall have a run from the big wood," said George.
"If they make un break, you will, sir," said Bat.
"At any rate I'll ride the brown horse," said George.

Then, as soon as that was settled between them, the Roebury Club overtook them.
There was now a rush of horses on the road altogether, and they were within a quarter of a mile of Edgehill church, close to which was the meet.

Bat with his two hunters fell a little behind, and the others trotted on together.