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And as good as thet you tell the truth. Thet ain't in some hoss-traders I know.... What do you think of this mustang?" Macomber had eyes of enthusiasm for his latest acquisition, but some of the cock-sureness had been knocked out of him by the blunt riders. "Macomber, aren't you a great one to talk?" queried Lucy, severely.
"Hell, I thought you was from New York?" "I lived in Kentucky until I was twenty-five." "Was your folks hoss-traders?" "Not exactly," laughed Bartley. "My father always kept a few good saddle-horses, however." "Uh-huh? I reckon he did. And you ain't forgot what a real hoss looks like, either." Wishful's pensive countenance lighted suddenly.
David had said to him once when he suspected that John's ideas might have sustained something of a shock, "A hoss-trade ain't like anythin' else. A feller may be straighter 'n a string in ev'rythin' else, an' never tell the truth that is, the hull truth about a hoss. I trade hosses with hoss-traders. They all think they know as much as I do, an' I dunno but what they do.
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