"The young chap won't look at the mare no more, 'n' Brown tells me to put her up. I hustles her back to the stall, 'n' goes down to the street door 'n' waits. There's a big gray automobile at the curb, with six guns stickin' out of her side in front—she looks like a battle-ship. Pretty soon the young chap comes out 'n' starts to board her 'n' I braces him.
"'I think I know where you can get the hoss you're lookin' fur,' I says.
"He stares at me kind-a puzzled fur a minute.
"'Oh, yes, you are the man who brought the mare up-stairs,' he says. 'What leads you to believe you can find a hunter good enough to beat Macbeth?'
"'I ain't said nothin' about a hunter,' I says. 'Would you stand fur a ringer?'
"'I think I get your inference,' he says. 'Be a little more specific, please.'
"'If I puts you hep to a hoss that ain't no more a hunter than that automobile,' I says, 'but can run like the buzz-wagon 'n' jump like a hunter—could you use him in your business?'
"'What sort of a horse would that be?' he says.
"'A thoroughbred,' I says. 'A bang-tail.'
"'Oh—a runner,' he says. 'Do you know anything about the runners?'