"How much?" repeated the Indian stoically.
"But you don't want horses like them, when you've a circus beast over there would make them look like a wheelbarrow without the wheel."
"How much?"
Torrance sighed. "Is that all the English teacher knew at your school? Conrad, he's making me name a price, because I don't know any other way to stop him. Indian-who-spiks-English, they cost me two hundred dollars each, and—"
"Daddy!"
"Oh, bother!" Torrance mopped his forehead. "That's the worst of bringing up a daughter too strict. A real liar hasn't half a chance. Did I say fifty dollars?"
"Fifty dollars," offered the Indian, unfolding a wallet from his blanket.
"One hundred dollars—in cold cash—out here in the bush! Say"—he walked reverently round the Indian, looking him over—"where d'you keep his scalp? I warn you I haven't ten dollars in the shack—and I'm getting bald about the crown."
"Fifty dollars!" grunted the Indian.
"I got to turn it down, old friend. They're the only saddle horses, bar the Police, within a week's journey."