"One hundred dollars."
Torrance walked reverently over to the horses and stared at them.
"I bet they're a damn sight better'n I thought."
"Two hundred each!" There was a finality about the extravagant offer that impressed Torrance.
"Big Chief," he murmured, "let's see that bank again. To tell you the truth, I paid exactly ten dollars each for them—and I couldn't rob a decent citizen. So you see the deal's off: I wouldn't take the money, and you couldn't go back on your offer."
The Indian was holding out a huge roll of bills. Torrance blinked at it and turned to Tressa.
"You can't sell, daddy. One is mine, and I'm learning to ride. But we'll give them the horses for nothing when we leave."
Torrance extended his hands helplessly. "That ends it, you see. She's boss. We can't sell, but we'll hand 'em over f.o.b. when we go—and if you've oats enough in your tribe for that red fellow I wish you'd give me your address and let me know when nobody's home."
The eyes of the Indian and his squaw met. The latter sighed. The Indian slowly thrust the wallet within his blanket. Then without another word he took her hand and they started back across the trestle.
Torrance watched them with amazement "Hi—say!"