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"Here's one bred to suit you!" rasped a nasal voice, and I sat up, half awake, to observe a tall man lead a thorough-bred on to the track and dexterously "throw" a boy into the tiny saddle. "Why?" Blister questioned. "He's by Salvation," explained the tall man. "Likely-lookin' colt, ain't he? Think he favors the old hoss any?" "'Bout the head he does," Blister answered.
"Calculated to." "Any news?" "Nary." "What's become of that What's-his-name baby you was a-tellin' about? The one that lost his ma and was bein' cared for by neighbors?" "Nothin' hain't become of him. Calc'late he'll be took to a institution." "Um! Likely-lookin' two-year-old, was he? Take note of any blemishes?" "I hear tell by them that knows as how he was sound in wind and limb."
"Lord! theer bean't two other such fine, up-standin', likely-lookin' chaps in all the South Country as you two chaps be no, nor such smiths! it du warm my old 'eart to look at 'ee. Puts me in mind o' what I were myself ages an' ages ago.
"Putty likely-lookin' eggs," says the Dock; 'nd he handed the lines over to Lem, 'nd got out'n the buggy. "How many hev you got?" he asked. "Ten dozen," says the boy. "Git out!" says Dock. "There hain't no ten dozen eggs in that basket!" "Yes, there is," says the boy, "fur I counted 'em myself."
He was a likely-lookin' chap enough, but very dark-complected an' sallow-like, with a bad eye, showin' a lot o' the white. An eye like that's a bad thing in a horse, an' I reckon 't ain't a heap better in a man. "Sez I to Nellie, sez I: 'Nellie, who's yer yaller friend over there by the windy, which looks like he'd like to make sassage-meat o' my head?
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