“I’d appreciate him,” thought Jim enviously. “And I’d take awfully good care of him.”
Apparently the horse read Jim’s thoughts, for he raised his head, cocked it even farther to one side, and stared straight at the boy. It was a friendly look that clearly said, “Yes, I know, Jim; we’d be good friends.”
Sorrowfully the boy watched the old trader tie the mustang to the end of the string and then climb up on his wagon. How he would like to own that horse. A real mustang with a brand. He and that pony certainly could have fun together.
The wagon turned around and started down the lane. Jim felt as sad and lonely as if his best friend were departing forever. If only he could have gone to town. Then he would not have seen the little mustang and wanted him so. He pulled out his watch. Three-thirty. Time had passed rapidly enough while he was looking at the mustang. Now it would drag again. Suddenly he looked at the watch as if he were seeing it for the first time. His grandfather’s watch—his most prized possession. He couldn’t possibly part with it. He raised his eyes and saw the mustang going out the gate. Headlong he ran after the wagon.
“Hey, Mister! Wait a minute please!”
The horse trader heard the frantic cry and pulled his team to a halt. He looked down inquiringly as Jimmy rushed up beside him.
“Would you trade that mustang for my watch?” Jim asked in a rush of words, as though afraid that if he hesitated he would lose his nerve.
“Well, I might now,” answered the old man. “What kind of a watch is it?”
“Here it is,” said Jim, pulling out his precious watch. He stood on tiptoe to hand it up to the trader.
The old man examined the watch carefully while Jim watched nervously. The trader held the watch to his ear, removed the back and inspected the shiny works.