“Using your head?” She laughed.
“You can call it that,” he joined in her laughter. “I've been spendin' money like water.”
“But you haven't got any to spend,” she objected.
“I've got credit in this valley, I'll let you know,” he replied. “An' I sure strained it some this afternoon. Now guess.”
“A saddle-horse?”
He roared with laughter, startling the colt, which tried to bolt and lifted him half off the ground by his grip on its frightened nose and neck.
“Oh, I mean real guessin',” he urged, when the animal had dropped back to earth and stood regarding him with trembling suspicion.
“Two saddle-horses?”
“Aw, you ain't got imagination. I'll tell you. You know Thiercroft. I bought his big wagon from 'm for sixty dollars. I bought a wagon from the Kenwood blacksmith—so-so, but it'll do—for forty-five dollars. An' I bought Ping's wagon—a peach—for sixty-five dollars. I could a-got it for fifty if he hadn't seen I wanted it bad.”
“But the money?” Saxon questioned faintly. “You hadn't a hundred dollars left.”