“Want to sell him?”
“Um-um-hm—d' n' know. I came on to sell him.”
“Don't you sell him. Don't you never sell him,” urged the old trainer. “Keep him, an' le' me handle him for you. You 'll git mo' 'n second money next time.”
“I 'll give you a thousand dollars for him. What do you say?”
Old Robin gave an exclamation.
“A thousand dollars! For dis hoss!”
The gentleman's friend broke in:
“Oh, come, Newby, don't rob the boy. He 'll give you two thousand,” he laughed.
They were examining the horse as he walked along under his blanket.
“Two thousand?” The boy was hesitating. It was a great sum to him.