"I want that one!"
The old Ranger, remarking quietly that it was a fine horse, but not suitable to the purpose for which Wilbur wanted the animal, passed on to the discussion of several other ponies near by, teaching the boy to discern the fine points of a horse, not for beauty, but for service.
But as soon as he had finished speaking, after a purely perfunctory assent, Wilbur burst out again:
"But, Rifle-Eye, I really want that sorrel most."
"You really think you want him?"
"Yes!"
"You wouldn't if you knew a little more about horses, son," said the Ranger. "It's all right to be sure what you want, but what you want is to be sure that what you want is right."
"Oh, I'm sure I'm right," answered the boy confidently.
"You can't be too careful choosin' a horse," commented Rifle-Eye. "Choosin' a horse is a good deal like pickin' out a sugar pine for shakes. You know what shakes are?"
"No, Rifle-Eye," answered the boy.