When he faced
around again he was another man. Slone felt the powerful driving passion of
this old horse-trader.
"Slone, I'll give you pick of a hundred mustangs an' a thousand dollars for
Wildfire!"
So he unmasked his power in the face of a beggarly rider! Though it struck
Slone like a thunderbolt, he felt amused. But he did not show that. Bostil had
only one possession, among all his uncounted wealth, that could win Wildfire
from his owner.
"No," said Slone, briefly.
"I'll double it," returned Bostil, just as briefly.
"No!"
"I'll--"
"Save your breath, Bostil," flashed Slone. "You don't know me. But let me tell
you--you CAN'T BUY my horse!"
The great veins swelled and churned in Bostil's bull neck; a thick and ugly
contortion worked in his face; his eyes reflected a sick rage.
Slone saw that two passions shook Bostil--one, a bitter, terrible
disappointment, and the other, the passion of a man who could not brook being
crossed. It appeared to Slone that the best thing he could do was to get away
quickly, and to this end he led Wildfire out of the corral to the stable
courtyard, and there quickly saddled him.
Pages:
336
337
338
339
340
341
342
343
344
345
346
347
348
349
350
351
352
353
354
355
356
357
358
359
360