crack him up, an' I talked hoss fer all I was wuth. The deakin looked
him over in a don't-care kind of a way, an' didn't 'parently give much
heed to what I was sayin'. Finely I says, 'Wa'al, what do you think of
him?' 'Wa'al,' he says, 'he seems to be a likely enough critter, but I
don't believe he'd suit Mr. White--'fraid not,' he says. 'What you
askin' fer him?' he says. 'One-fifty,' I says, 'an' he's a cheap hoss at
the money'; but," added the speaker with a laugh, "I knowed I might 's
well of said a thousan'. The deakin wa'n't buyin' no roan colts that
mornin'."

"What did he say?" asked Mrs. Bixbee.

"'Wa'al,' he says, 'wa'al, I guess you ought to git that much fer him,
but I'm 'fraid he ain't what Mr. White wants.' An' then, 'That's quite
a hoss we come down with,' he says. 'Had him long?' 'Jest long 'nough to
git 'quainted with him,' I says. 'Don't you want the roan fer your own
use?' I says. 'Mebbe we c'd shade the price a little.' 'No,' he says, 'I
guess not. I don't need another hoss jest now.' An' then, after a minute
he says: 'Say, mebbe the bay hoss we drove 'd come nearer the mark fer
White, if he's all right. Jest as soon I'd look at him?' he says.
'Wa'al, I hain't no objections, but I guess he's more of a hoss than the
dominie 'd care for, but I'll go an' fetch him out,' I says. So I
brought him out, an' the deakin looked him all over. I see it was a case
of love at fust sight, as the story-books says. 'Looks all right,' he
says. 'I'll tell ye,' I says, 'what the feller I bought him of told me.'
'What's that?' says the deakin. 'He said to me,' I says, '"that hoss
hain't got a scratch ner a pimple on him. He's sound an' kind, an' 'll
stand without hitchin', an' a lady c'd drive him as well 's a man."'

"'That's what he said to me,' I says, 'an' it's every word on't true.