“Law, yes! For the work you want done, you are.”
“Well, I’ll be going along, I guess,” remarked Ben. “I want to look over the field before the sale begins.”
“That’d be a good idee.”
Ben boarded an electric car which crossed the city. He was dubious as to his ability for the task he had undertaken, and regretted that he had not asked Mundon to go in his place. He ran over the directions for buying a horse.
“Round-hoofed, small-eared, broad-headed, clear-eyed, short-teethed, clean-legged, wide-chested, and good-proportioned,” he enumerated. “I’m primed for a horse-sale, if I ever need to go to one; but I’m all at sea about a mule.”
Mundon had seemed to be singularly averse to offering to make the purchase, Ben reflected, although he had been given ample opportunity to do so, and he was so well qualified to select exactly the animal needed.
He had appeared anxious to get Ben out of the way. Could it be possible that he meant to make the attempt to get the rope over the top of the chimney during his absence? How would he manage it? It seemed a colossal, impossible task.
The car clanged its bell along Kearny Street, whizzed across Market and swung into Third Street, on its way to the Potrero. A wild idea occurred to Ben. “If there’s a mule in the inclosure that points his ears at me, I’ll buy him,” he decided.
Association with his father had implanted superstition in the boy’s character. Ben had seen it sway his father many times, as indeed it exerted an influence more or less potent upon all miners.
A recollection of the sum he had resolved to expend reminded Ben that the occult must be confined within the limits of fifteen dollars.