"What do you think of it?" asked the drug clerk.
"Is he for sale?" inquired Whallen, before answering.
"No, he ain't for sale," answered Todd. "This fellow thinks he ain't a nice horse."
"Well," said Whallen, "a man can easy enough put meat on a horse. But he can't put the bones in him."
"Nor the git-ap," added Todd.
"Does he know anything?" asked Whallen.
"That's just what he does," answered Todd. "I threw a steer with him yesterday and he held it while I made a tie. A steer can't get any slack rope on him. He surprised me."
"Who had him?" inquired Whallen.
"Don't know. I bought him up at the county-seat. He was one of them uncalled-for kind—like that suit of clothes they sold me up in Chicago. And Steve Brown says to me, 'I should say they were uncalled for, entirely uncalled for.' They can't fool me on horses, though."
"Say!" said Whallen; "Ed Curtis got in from Belleview yesterday. When he was coming along the road he met a girl on a sorrel. And last night Tuck Reedy—"