“The carriage,” she said. “Clarkie told us about it at recess. It’s got sea springs—sea springs, like waves, Uncle Hank.” (The small brown hands paddled about in the air to piece out a vocabulary that failed to undulate in the required luxurious manner.) “Sea springs, and ‘the best of material everywhere in its construction.’” (Smooth going here on a direct quotation from some manufacturer’s catalogue.)
“Honey,” said Hank with a little drop in his tone, “I’d love to buy a carriage for the Sorrows—land knows, we need it, with the ambulance a staggering cripple like it is—one leg broke, an arm in a sling, both eyes blacked and an ear chawed off—but we ain’t got the money. You see, Capadine’s fixed differently, Pettie. He could buy a carriage for his folks any day.”
Hilda had hung in rapt silence upon that fascinating description of the ambulance, a characterization whose every feature she recognized perfectly; but now she broke in:
“Oh, I didn’t mean to buy a carriage! We’re going to win it—over at Dawn—at the fair—it’s the prize for the roping match.”
“Hold on a minute.” Hank tightened one arm around her, and with the other reached down into the mail sack where, after some fumbling, he brought out a folded handbill. “Seems to me I saw something of that sort in here,” he said.
Within the last few months, Lame Jones County had been organized; it had now a county seat of its own, in the little new cow-town of Dawn, much nearer to the Three Sorrows than Mesquite; they were celebrating with a county fair, with all the usual cattle country contests and the approved cattle country prizes.
The sheet was unfolded in front of them both. Hilda instantly began to read: “The Committee will spare no pains—” while Hank was running a finger slowly down the line of prizes offered. It was well that Buckskin knew the way, for he got no more guidance.
The traveling forefinger reached the prize offered the successful contestant in the roping match. Hank’s bearded lips moved:
“M-m-m, ‘cushions and cover genu-wine leather,’” he muttered. “You was about right, Pettie.”
“Well, then, we can get it, can’t we?” she reiterated her demand as he let her down carefully by one hand at the door-stone.