"Hey," called out old man Pettit in an aggrieved tone. "I jes done gone bid seventy-five on that air caow. What's the reason Amos Hatfield gits 'er?"
"Sorry, Uncle Ezra; I didn't hear yer bid. Did anybody else hear Uncle Ezra bid seventy-five on the caow?"
There was no response.
"Ye'll have to learn to talk laouder, Ezra."
Obe smiled wickedly. The crowd snickered. Ezra turned away muttering disgustedly. Obe was occasionally suspected of playing favorites in this way and sometimes aroused considerable bad feeling. But when the joke was on Uncle Ezra everybody sided with the auctioneer and the other fellow.
The door into the horse stall was now thrown open and the horses came out. One of the old man's grandsons, a handsome, dark-eyed boy in a ragged red sweater, rode one and led the other. The men formed a wider circle to give the animals room to show themselves. There was no male inhabitant of Scott County who did not consider himself an expert judge of horses. Around the circle of onlookers went an increased buzz of talk, a craning of unshaven necks, a fastening of critical eyes on the horses and a great deal of emphatic spitting.
"Naow then," bellowed Obe, girding himself for the grand finale of the sale. "I'm a-goin' to sell ye the best team o' work hosses this side o' Cynthiana. They're five an' six year old, not a day more. Uncle Nat Carberry raised 'em hisse'f from foals an' he raised 'em careful. Nobody in Scott County knew better haow to raise an' break a colt than Uncle Nat. There hain't spot ner blemish on nary one of 'em. If anybody here'll point me spot or blemish on ary one o' them hosses, I'll hand him a ten dollar bill out o' my own pocket."
Obe reached down in his hip pocket, brought out a small roll of bills, flourished them for a moment or two and put them back. In the meantime the horses, ridden and led by the boy in the ragged red sweater, had been trotting around and around the enlarged ring. They were gray horses of the Percheron breed, strong, stockily-built animals with broad backs, heavy haunches, and gentle, if rather dull faces.
Obe's face glowed with genuine pride and enthusiasm as he waited for the bid.
"Hundred an' fifty."