AC dBooks

"You're a doggone
liar! You're a doggone coward! You're a doggone thief!"
"Just a minute, friend," said Annersley as the trader started toward
the boy. "I reckon the boy is right--but we was talkin' hosses. I'll
give you just forty dollars for the hoss--and the boy."
"Make it fifty and you can take 'em. The kid is no good, anyhow."
This was too much for Young Pete. He could stand abuse and scant
rations, but to be classed as "no good," when he had worked so hard and
lied so eloquently, hurt more than mere kick or blow. His face
quivered and he bit his lip. Old man Annersley slowly drew a wallet
from his overalls and counted out forty dollars. "That hoss ain't
sound," he remarked and he recounted the money. He's got a couple of
wind-puffs, and he's old. He needs feedin' and restin' up. That boy
your boy?"
"That kid! Huh! I picked him up when he was starvin' to death over to
Enright. I been feedin' him and his no-account dog for a year, and
neither of 'em is worth what he eats."
"So? Then I reckon you won't be missin' him none if I take him along
up to my place.


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