"I suppose so," admitted Terry.
"But you got a spark in you, son. Well, one of these days we'll get together. And I hear tell you got El Sangre?"
"I was lucky," said Terry.
"That's a sizable piece of work, Colby. I've seen twenty that run El Sangre, and never even got close enough to eat his dust. Nacheral pacer, right enough. I've seen him kite across country like a train! And his mane and tail blowing like smoke!"
"I got him with patience. That was all."
"S'pose we take a look at him?"
"By all means. Just come along with me."
Elizabeth struck in.
"Just a moment, Terence. There's Mr. Gainor, and he's been asking to see you. You can take the sheriff out to see El Sangre later. Besides, half a dozen people want to talk to the sheriff, and you mustn't monopolize him. Miss Wickson begged me to get her a chance to talk to you—the real Sheriff Minter. Do you mind?"
"Pshaw," said the sheriff. "I ain't no kind of a hand at talking to the womenfolk. Where is she?"