"Where I came from, that holds a man
like taking oath on a Bible in court. I'm a stranger here,
but I'm going to expect the same standard of honor, grandpa.
You can back out now, and I'll run Smoky without any tryout,
and you can take your chance. I couldn't expect you to stand
by a stranger against your own folks--"
"Sho! Shucks a'mighty!" Grandpa spat and wagged his head
furiously. "My own forks'd beat me in a horse race if they
could, and I wouldn't hold it agin 'em! Runnin' horses is
like playin' poker. Every feller fer himself an' mercy to-
ward none! I knowed what it meant when I shook with yuh,
young feller, and I hold ye to it. I hold ye to it! You lay
low if I tell ye to lay low, and we'll make us a few dollars,
mebby. C'm on and git that horse outa here b'fore somebuddy
comes. It's mail day."
He waved Bud toward his saddle and took himself off in a
shuffling kind of trot. By the time Bud had saddled Smoky
grandpa hailed him cautiously from the brush-fringe beyond
the corral. He motioned toward a small gate and Bud led Smoky
that way, closing the gate after him.
The old man was mounted on a clean-built bay whose coat shone
with little glints of gold in the dark red. With one sweeping
look Bud observed the points that told of speed, and his eyes
went inquiringly to meet the sharp blue ones, that sparkled
under the tufted white eyebrows of grandpa.
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