The old times is gone when a man went out into the world with
a hoss under him, and a pair of Colts strapped to his waist, and made his
own way. Them days is gone, and our younger boys is going to pot!"
"I suppose so," admitted Terry.
"But you got a spark in you, son. Well, one of these days we'll get
together. And I hear tell you got El Sangre?"
"I was lucky," said Terry.
"That's a sizable piece of work, Colby. I've seen twenty that run El
Sangre, and never even got close enough to eat his dust. Nacheral pacer,
right enough. I've seen him kite across country like a train! And his
mane and tail blowing like smoke!"
"I got him with patience. That was all."
"S'pose we take a look at him?"
"By all means. Just come along with me."
Elizabeth struck in.
"Just a moment, Terence. There's Mr. Gainor, and he's been asking to see
you. You can take the sheriff out to see El Sangre later. Besides, half a
dozen people want to talk to the sheriff, and you mustn't monopolize him.
Miss Wickson begged me to get her a chance to talk to you--the real
Sheriff Minter. Do you mind?"
"Pshaw," said the sheriff.
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