“Now, Dick, let’s hear what you’ve got to say,” continued Eugene.
“I hope you didn’t give much for him,” was the trapper’s answer.
“Not much—a horse and about twenty dollars worth of blankets and things.”
“I’m sorry you gin that much.”
“Why? Isn’t he worth it?”
“I reckon he is.”
“Then why are you sorry?”
“O ’cause.”
“That’s no reason at all,” said Fred. “You’re sorry the black is going to get beaten, but we can’t help it. We don’t want to take dust all the time, and what’s more, we don’t intend to do it.”
Dick made no reply. He only smiled and glanced at old Bob, who gave him a significant look in return. Archie saw it, and knew that Dick had some other reason for wishing the trade had not been made. What it was he could not imagine. He thought of a score of things while he was unsaddling his horse and staking him out with the rest, but could decide upon nothing. When he returned to the fire a well-filled plate was placed before him, and in taking part in the conversation and listening to the trappers’ anecdotes, he soon forgot all about his new horse and the race that was to come off on the morrow.