“Sure I do!––the white mare. She’s a good enough horse, a beauty to look at, but there aren’t any millionaires around Vernock going to give you five hundred dollars for her. A hundred and fifty is plenty for a good riding horse these days.”
“Say!––whose horse is it, anyway?”
“Yours,––I presume!” said Phil.
“Who’s buying the horse?”
“Not me!”
“All right,––keep out!”
Phil smiled.
Dalton twisted up his face and turned to Hannington.
“Well, boss,––is it a go?”
Hannington demurred, then he showed a little decision, which Phil was beginning to think he was entirely devoid of.