Bartley escaped to the veranda and his reflections. Presently he rose and strolled round to the corral. Wishful's three saddle-animals were lazying in the heat. Bartley was not unfamiliar with the good points of a horse. He rejected the sorrel with the Roman nose, as stubborn and foolish. The flea-bitten gray was all horse, but he had a white-rimmed eye. The chestnut bay was a big, hardy animal, but he appeared rather slow and deliberate. Yet he had good, solid feet, plenty of bone, deep withers, and powerful hindquarters.
Bartley stepped round to the hotel. "Have you a minute to spare?" he queried as Wishful finished rearranging the furniture of the lobby.
Wishful had. He followed Bartley round to the corral.
"I'm thinking of buying a saddle-horse," stated Bartley.
Wishful leaned his elbows on the corral bar. "Why don't you rent one--and turn him in when you're through with him."
"I'd rather own one, and I may use him a long time."
"I ain't sufferin' to sell any of my hosses, Mr. Bartley. But I wouldn't turn down a fair offer."
"Set a price on that sorrel," said Bartley.
Now, Wishful was willing to part with the sorrel, which was showy and looked fast. Bartley did not want the animal. He merely wanted to arrive at a basis from which to work.
"Well," drawled Wishful, "I'd let him go for a hundred."