"Whose little girl are you?" he whispered, and, to that ancient query of parenthood, she gave the reply of childhood:
"Daddy's."
"Just for that, I'll offer the soldier a tremendous profit on Panchito. We'll see what his sentiment is worth."
"Bet you a new hat, angel-face, you haven't money enough to buy him," Kay challenged.
"Considering the cost of your hats, I'd be giving you rather long odds, Kay. You say this young man comes from the San Gregorio valley?"
"So he informed me."
"Well, there isn't a young man in the San Gregorio who doesn't need a couple of thousand dollars far worse than he needs a horse. I'll take your bet, Peaches. Of course you mentioned to him the fact that you wanted this horse?"
"Yes. And he said I couldn't have him—that he was going to acquire him."
"Perhaps he was merely jesting with you."
"No; he meant it."