"Perhaps it may, Wolverton. I heartily hope that you may find some one to make your life happy. I am happy myself, and I like to see others happy."
There was a little more conversation, and then Richard Burton went out.
"Good-bye, Wolverton. Come to my ranch some time. I'll give you a seat at supper, and we will smoke a cigar afterwards."
The colt—for it was scarcely more than that—was getting restless. It was pawing the ground and evidently anxious to get away.
"Your horse has a bad temper, Mr. Burton," said Wolverton.
"Yes, he needs taming. He's not well trained yet."
"There's something more than that," Wolverton said to himself, thoughtfully. "Horses are like men—they often have nasty tempers. I wouldn't ride behind that brute for—for the money Burton has just paid me. Some day he'll get upset, or thrown. And if he does," he continued, after a pause, "why should I lament? He has taken from me the only woman I ever loved. She might have made a different man of me—perhaps."
Just then a boy came up the street. He stopped and eyed Aaron Wolverton with a little misgiving.
"Sam," said Wolverton, sharply, "what kept you so long? Do you want the strap again?"
"Indeed, uncle, I hurried as fast as I could. Mr. Jenks kept me waiting."