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?’ ’Jest 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 jest 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 story-books 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 me that question I’d say to him two hunderd dollars, cash down, an’ I wouldn’t hold the offer open an hour,’ I says.”

“My!” ejaculated Aunt Polly.  “Did he take you up?”

“’That’s more’n I give fer a hoss ‘n a good while,’ he says, shakin’ his head, ‘an’ more’n I c’n afford, I’m ‘fraid.’  ‘All right,’ I says; ’I c’n afford to keep him’; but I knew I had the deakin same as the woodchuck had Skip.  ‘Hitch up the roan,’ I says to Mike; ’the deakin wants to be took up to his house.’  ‘Is that your last word?’ he says.  ’That’s what it is,’ I says.  ‘Two hunderd, cash down.’”