m the buckboard, rigged a pair
of shafts, and drove to Concho, where he heard of the trader and
finally located that worthy drinking at Tony's Place. Young Pete, as
usual, was in camp looking after the stock. The trader accompanied
Annersley to the camp. Young Pete, sniffing a customer, was
immediately up and doing. Annersley inspected the horses and finally
chose a horse which Young Pete roped with much swagger and unnecessary
language, for the horse was gentle, and quite familiar with Young
Pete's professional vocabulary.

"This here animal is sound, safe, and a child could ride him," asserted
Young Pete as he led the languid and underfed pony to the wagon. "He's
got good action." Pete climbed to the wagon-wheel and mounted
bareback. "He don't pitch, bite, kick, or balk." The horse, used to
being shown, loped a few yards, turned and trotted back. "He
neck-reins like a cow-hoss," said Pete, "and he can turn in a ten-cent
piece. You can rope from him and he'll hold anything you git your rope
on."

"Reckon he would," said Annersley, and his eyes twinkled. "'Specially
a hitchin'-rail. Git your rope on a hitchin'-rail and I reckon that
hitchin'-rail would never git away from him."

"He's broke right," reasserted Young Pete. "He's none of your ornery,
half-broke cayuses. You ought to seen him when he was a colt! Say, 't
wa'n't no time afore he could outwork and outrun any hoss in our bunch."

"How old be you?" queried Annersley.

"Twelve, goin' on thirteen."

"Uh-huh. And the hoss?"

"Oh, he's got a little age on him, but that don't hurt him none."

Annersley's beard twitched. "He must 'a' been a colt for quite a
spell. But I ain't lookin' for a cow-hoss. What I want is a hoss that
I can work. How does he go in harness?"

"Harness! Say, mister, this here hoss can pull the kingpin out of a
wagon without sweatin' a hair. Hook him onto a plough and he sure can
make the ole plough smoke."

Annersley shook his head. "That's a mite too fast for me, son. I'd
hate to have to stop at the end of every furrow and pour water on that
there plough-point to keep her cool."

"'Course if you're lookin' for a _cheap_ hoss," said Young Pete,
nothing abashed, "why, we got 'em. But I was showin' you the best in
the string."

"Don't know that I want him. What you say he was worth?"

"He's worth a hundred, to any man. But we're sellin' him cheap, for
cash--forty dollars."

"Fifty," said the trader, "a