“A horse? Is that all?”
“That’s all—but it seems to be plenty—more than enough—to judge from the way Jard Hassock talks. Well, what about it?”
“You want to steal a horse? You figgered out to steal a horse from old Luke Dangler to-night? Say, stranger, that sounds jist about crazy enough to be true! Jumpin’ cats! Stranger, Jard Hassock’s right. It can’t be done.”
“I want to buy a horse, if he has one that suits me.”
“Buy a horse. Say, that’s different. That’s easy. All you need’s a million dollars—or maybe ten thousand—or maybe only five.”
“No fear! I’ll offer a fair price and not a dollar more.”
“Then you won’t get no horse—not of the trottin’ stock, anyhow—but trouble a-plenty. A horse? You must want one real bad. Now if it was a woman it would be different, but any man who’d go git himself mixed up with them Danglers for a horse—for the best durned horse in the world—ain’t got all his brains workin’, to my way of thinkin’.”
“You may be right. They seem to be difficult people to deal with, that’s a fact. I had no idea that they went so far as to post sentries on the road. Have many attempts been made to steal their horses?”
Pete turned his glance from the crack in the wall to Vane’s face. Vane could see the glimmer of the eyes and feel the searching of them.
“You don’t look like a liar,” said Pete.