"That's the name I always went by," said the black-eyed, black-hearted man. I did not like his looks; I felt it in my bones that Pod was going to be "done" by him. When a man or donkey is over anxious to acquire something, he is pretty sure to make a blunder. On being catechised, the man said his business was "hoss tradin' some, farmin' some, and various some."
"Hear you've got a donkey for sale," Pod observed.
"Nope," said K——, "but I've got two of 'em. Sell both er none."
"I was told you have tried to give them away," said Pod.
The "hoss trader" threw one leg over the other, spat tobacco juice in Don's eyes so he couldn't see all that might a-cur, raked timothy seed out of his whiskers, and inquired, "Who was tellin' ye that?"
"The fellow didn't give his name," answered Pod, "and I wouldn't undertake to describe his physical geography, but I could locate him if I wished to."
"If I could lay my hands on him, I'd dislocate him," said K——, snapping his eyes.
When my master told about his travels, the Iowan became interested, and showed signs of weakening on his ultimatum. Meanwhile, I discovered the subjects of the discussion grazing in a meadow, and brayed them a courteous "how to do," thus calling Pod's attention to them.
The hoss trader was sharp enough to see it, and his animal instinct told him that vanity was Pod's weak point; so he opened up with a little blarney.
"Now, Mr. Pod, I'm fair t' say I've sort o' takin' a likin' to ye, and I want to help ye along. I'll sell both my donkeys for ten dollars, er one for five and trade the other for one of your'n. Jest let your partner here run across the field and drive 'em over. I want ye to see 'em."