“Now you can do me a good turn,” said the stranger as they went out of the gate, fastening it this time. “I’d like to water my horses.”
“Sure, bring them over to the tank.”
Jim pumped more water into the big cement tank while the man led his horses over to drink. First he watered the team he was driving and then started with the string of horses behind the wagon.
“How come you’ve got so many horses?” asked Jim, his curiosity getting the better of his manners.
“I’m a horse trader. Not many traveling horse traders left any more. I usually have a lot more horses than these, but I sold fourteen yesterday.”
“Gee,” said Jim, “it must be a lot of fun to have so many horses.”
“It is if you like horses. It’s a lot of work too. Most people find two or three too much to take care of the way they should.”
“Do you live in that wagon?” asked Jim.
“All but about three months of the year,” replied the horse trader. “Now let me ask a question. When’s your pa going to be home?”
“About five o’clock, I ’spect,” Jim informed him. He looked at his watch. It was not quite three. He hadn’t been in that tree nearly so long as he had thought.