ins
over the horses' heads. A man came out of the stable-room, two more
came from back of a shed.

"Well, if it haint the ole buzzard from Ripple Creek, a sailin' around
lookin' fer his dinner. Nothin' dead around here Landy," said the
short, stubby man that came from the stable room.

"Howdy, Potter. 'Lo, Flinthead. Howdy, Hickory. All you cimarrons
wipe yer hands real clean en shake with my friend Mister Lannarck. We
jist took time outen our busy lives to come over here en watch you
birds loaf eround," said Landy after introductions had been
acknowledged. "En my pardner here has a broken handled knife that he
would trade for a little hoss."

"Well, it's a shame, Mister Lannarck," said Potter thoughtfully, "that
ye have to carry sich a load as bein' introduced by sich a
double-barreled, disreputable ole renegade of a crook like this. But
we understand and will try to he'p ye live it down. Now, as to that
little hoss. He belongs to Miss Adine. She's at the house. Flinthead,
you move them hosses in here! Hickory, go tell Adine that the circus
party that Landy told her about is here to see the colt."

Both men set about their tasks. Flinthead led out a horse, mounted and
rode down a lane, propping the gates open as he went. From a corral
back of the stables came a drove of horses, mares, colts, and
yearlings. Trotting, prancing, and snorting as they came down the
lane, they settled down once they were in the stable lot.

Davy was between two fires. He sought a safe place from being run down
by the drove and yet he wanted to catch a glimpse of any kind of horse
suitable to his size. He noted plenty of small ones but their short,
bushy tails revealed colthood. The others were too large. As the drove
settled down a colt came from out the center of the milling herd and
walked up to Potter, extending his muzzle as if expecting something.

"That's the one!" said Dave excitedly.

He was a red sorrel with three white feet and legs and a flaxen mane
and tail. Experts in such matters would have said he was nearly eleven
hands high. Unlike his pony prototypes, his was a lengthy, arched
neck, held high from narrowing withers and a short back. He was dirty.
His mane and tail needed attention. Potter put out his hand. The colt
walked near enough that he placed his arm over his neck and led him
to a post where a rope dangled. This, he secured around the colt's
neck.

"Good morning, everybody."

The colt parley was thus inter