"There was an old pinto in there," said Sullivan, "all leather in that
hoss. You know him, Joe. Well, the boy runs his eye over the bunch, and
then picks the pinto right off. I said he wasn't for sale, but he
wouldn't take anything else. I figured a stiff price, and then added a
hundred to it. Lanning didn't wink. He took the horse, but he didn't pay
cash. Told me I'd have to trust him."

Bill Dozier bade Sullivan farewell, gathered his five before the house,
and made them a speech. Bill had a long, lean face, a misty eye, and a
pair of drooping, sad mustaches. As Jasper Lanning once said: "Bill
Dozier always looked like he was just away from a funeral or just goin'
to one." This night the dull eye of Bill was alight.

"Gents," he said, "maybe you-all is disappointed. I heard some talk
comin' up here that maybe the boy had laid over for the night in
Sullivan's house. Which he may be a fool, but he sure ain't a plumb
fool. But, speakin' personal, this trail looks more and more interestin'
to me. Here he's left Buck's hoss, so he ain't exactly a hoss
thief--yet. And he's promised to pay for the pinto, so that don't make
him a crook. But when the pinto gives out, Andy'll be in country where
he mostly ain't known. He can't take things on trust, and he'll mostly
take 'em, anyway. Boys, looks to me like we was after the real article.
Anybody weakenin'?"

It was suggested that the boy would be overtaken before the pinto gave
out; it was even suggested that this waiting for Andrew Lanning to
commit a crime was perilously like forcing him to become a criminal. To
all of this the deputy listened sadly, combing his mustaches. The hunger
for the manhunt is like the hunger for food, and Bill Dozier had been
starved for many a day.