“What did the deakin say?” asked Aunt Polly as David stopped for breath.
“I didn’t expect him to jump down my throat,” he answered; “but I seen him prick up his ears, an’ all the time I was talkin’ I noticed him lookin’ my hoss over, head an’ foot. ‘Now I ’member,’ he says, ‘hearin’ sunthin’ ’bout Mr. White’s lookin’ fer a hoss, though when you fust spoke on’t it had slipped my mind. Of course,’ he says, ‘the’ ain’t any real reason why Mr. White shouldn’t deal with you direct, an’ yit mebbe I could do more with him ’n you could. But,’ he says, ‘I wa’n’t cal’latin’ to go t’ the village this mornin’, an’ I sent my hired man off with my drivin’ hoss. Mebbe I’ll drop ’round in a day or two,’ he says, ‘an’ look at the roan.’
“ ‘You mightn’t ketch me,’ I says, ‘an’ I want to show him myself; an’ more’n that,’ I says, ‘Dug Robinson’s after the dominie. I’ll tell ye,’ I says, ‘you jest git in ’ith me an’ go down an’ look at him, an’ I’ll send ye back or drive ye back, an’ if you’ve got anythin’ special on hand you needn’t be gone three quarters of an hour,’ I says.”
“He come, did he?” inquired Mrs. Bixbee.
“He done so,” said David sententiously. “Jest as I knowed he would, after he’d hem’d an’ haw’d about so much, an’ he rode a mile an’ a half livelier ’n he done in a good while, I reckon. He had to pull that old broad-brim of his’n down to his ears, an’ don’t you fergit it. He, he, he, he! The road was jest full o’ hosses. Wa’al, we drove into the yard, an’ I told the hired man to unhitch the bay hoss an’ fetch out the roan, an’ while he was bein’ unhitched the deakin stood ’round an’ never took his eyes off’n him, an’ I knowed I wouldn’t sell the deakin no roan hoss that day, even if I wanted to. But when he come out I begun to 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?’ ‘Jes’ 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 jes’ 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 storybooks 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. You’ve seen whether or not he c’n travel,’ I says, ‘an’, so fur ’s I’ve seen, he ain’t ’fraid of nothin’.’ ‘D’ye want to sell him?’ the deakin says. ‘Wa’al,’ I says, ‘I ain’t offerin’ him fer sale. You’ll go a good ways,’ I says, ‘ ’fore you’ll strike such another; but, of course, he ain’t the only hoss in the world, an’ I never had anythin’ in the hoss line I wouldn’t sell at some price.’ ‘Wa’al,’ he says, ‘what d’ ye ask fer him?’ ‘Wa’al,’ I says, ‘if my own brother was to ask
