Just then the distant "Zoom" of the westbound Overland shook the
silence. Wishful hesitated, then gestured magnificently toward space.
What was the arrival of a mere train, with possibly a guest or so for
the hotel, compared with a game of craps?

While they played, the train steamed in and was gone. Wishful won the
two dollars.

Bartley escaped to the veranda and his reflections. Presently he rose
and strolled round to the corral. Wishful's three saddle-animals were
lazying in the heat. Bartley was not unfamiliar with the good points of
a horse. He rejected the sorrel with the Roman nose, as stubborn and
foolish. The flea-bitten gray was all horse, but he had a white-rimmed
eye. The chestnut bay was a big, hardy animal, but he appeared rather
slow and deliberate. Yet he had good, solid feet, plenty of bone, deep
withers, and powerful hindquarters.

Bartley stepped round to the hotel. "Have you a minute to spare?" he
queried as Wishful finished rearranging the furniture of the lobby.

Wishful had. He followed Bartley round to the corral.

"I'm thinking of buying a saddle-horse," stated Bartley.

Wishful leaned his elbows on the corral bar. "Why don't you rent
one--and turn him in when you're through with him."

"I'd rather own one, and I may use him a long time."

"I ain't sufferin' to sell any of my hosses, Mr. Bartley. But I wouldn't