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Try a circus, persisted Balaam. Alter your plans for spending cash in town, and make a little money instead. Shorty having no plans to alter and no cash to spend, grew still more gloomy. Whatll you take for that pony? said Balaam. Shorty spoke up instantly. A hundred dollars couldnt buy that piece of stale mud off his back, he asserted, looking off into the sky grandiosely. But Balaam looked at Shorty, You keep the mud, he said, and Ill give you thirty dollars for the horse. Shorty did a little professional laughing, and began to walk toward his saddle. Give you thirty dollars, repeated Balaam, picking a stone up and slinging it into the river. How far do yu call it to Drybone? Shorty remarked, stooping to investigate the bucking-strap on his saddle--a superfluous performance, for Pedro never bucked. You wont have to walk, said Balaam. Stay all night, and Ill send you over comfortably in the morning, when the wagon goes for the mail. Walk? Shorty retorted. Drybones twenty-five miles. Pedroll put me there in three hours and not know he done it. He lifted the saddle on the horses back. Come, Pedro, said he. Come, Pedro! mocked Balaam There followed a little silence. No, sir, mumbled Shorty, with his head under Pedros belly, busily cinching. A hundred dollars is bottom figures. Balaam, in his turn, now duly performed some professional laughing, which was noted by Shorty under the horses belly. He stood up and squared round on Balaam. Well, then, he said, whatll yu give for him? Thirty dollars, said Balaam, looking far off into the sky, as Shorty had looked. Oh, come, now, expostulated Shorty. It was he who now did the feeling for an offer and this was what Balaam liked to see. Why yes, he said, thirty, and looked surprised that he should have to mention the sum so often. I thought yud quit them first figures, said the cow-puncher, for yu can see I aint goin to look at em. Balaam climbed on the fence and sat there Im not crying for your Pedro, he observed dispassionately. Only it struck me you were dead broke, and wanted to raise cash and keep yourself going till you hunted up a job and could buy him back. He hooked his right thumb inside his waistcoat pocket. But Im not cryin for him, he repeated. Hed stay right here, of course. I wouldnt part with him. Why does he stand that way? Hello! Balaam suddenly straightened himself, like a man who has made a discovery. Hello, what? said Shorty, on the defensive. Balaam was staring at Pedro with a judicial frown. Then he stuck out a finger at the horse, keeping the thumb hooked in his pocket. So meagre a gesture was felt by the ruffled Shorty to be no just way to point at Pedro. Whats the matter with that foreleg there? said Balaam. Which? Nothins the matter with it! snapped Shorty. Balaam climbed down from his fence and came over with elaborate deliberation. He passed his hand up and down the off foreleg. Then he spit slenderly. Mm! he said thoughtfully; and added, with a shade of sadness, thats always to be expected when theyre worked too young. Shorty slid his hand slowly over the disputed leg. Whats to be expected? he inquired--that theyll eat hearty? Well, he does. At this retort the Virginian permitted himself to laugh in audible sympathy. |
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