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.
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