"Really?" said John.
"Yes, sir," said David. "Some folks is gaited that way. Amusin', ain't it?—Hullo, Dick! Wa'al?"
"Willis'll give two hunderd fer the sorr'l colt," said the incomer, whom John recognized as one of the loungers in the Eagle bar the night of his arrival.
"E-um'm!" said David. "Was he speakin' of any pertic'ler colt, or sorril colts in gen'ral? I hain't got the only one the' is, I s'pose."
Dick merely laughed. "Because," continued the owner of the "sorril colt," "if Steve Willis wants to lay in sorril colts at two hunderd a piece, I ain't goin' to gainsay him, but you tell him that two-forty-nine ninety-nine won't buy the one in my barn." Dick laughed again.
John made a move in the direction of the front room.
"Hold on a minute," said David. "Shake hands with Mr. Larrabee."
"Seen ye before," said Dick, as they shook hands. "I was in the barroom when you come in the other night," and then he laughed as at the recollection of something very amusing.
John flushed a little and said, a bit stiffly, "I remember you were kind enough to help about my luggage."
"Excuse me," said Dick, conscious of the other's manner. "I wa'n't laughin' at you, that is, not in pertic'ler. I couldn't see your face when Ame offered ye pie an' doughnuts instid of beefsteak an' fixins. I c'd only guess at that; but Ame's face was enough fer me," and Dick went off into another cachinnation.