“I was wonderin’, major,” Sam began slowly, “if you wouldn’t sell me that black mare. I’d kind of like to have her. Got a feeling like she’s a pal, havin’ her here so much.” The major laughed and his gray eyes moved back to Sam’s face. “That mare is purebred racing stock, Sam. I never paid much attention to her until I saw her on the run the other day. She’s fast, the fastest thing I have loose on the range. This fall she’ll clean up the cow-pony races at the state fair.” The major chuckled. “Me and the filly has hit it off right nice. I thought mebby you’d sell her,” Sam said gently. The major looked down at Sam and his eyes twinkled. “Tell you what, Sam,” he said jokingly. “I never had anything I wouldn’t sell if I got my price. I’ll sell you that black filly for five hundred dollars.” He bent forward until the saddle horn creased his ample waistline. “But I get to race her at the fair.” Sam grunted. “Reckon I may take you up,” he said slowly. The major kept his face straight. He was sure Sam didn’t have ten dollars to his name. The old prospector always managed to scratch together enough dust to buy a few groceries, but never had more than that. He nodded his head. This would be a good joke to tell the boys at the ranch. His eyes dropped to the ancient shotgun, and to keep from laughing he asked abruptly: “What have you been shooting?” “Got her charged with rock salt an’ bird shot,” Sam explained seriously. “Makes an ol’ gray wolf hit it lickety-split. And one of them swift-hawks shore claws air fit to shake out his tail feathers when I tech him up.” He grinned widely. The major nodded. “Glad you keep that gun handy. It will keep wolves and cougars away from the mare.” He recalled stories the old hands on the ranch told about Sam’s youthful prowess with a carbine and a forty-five Colt. He supposed the old prospector’s eyes were so bad he had to use a scatter-gun. “Got a shank o’ venison on the stove. Cold, but makes right nice chawin’,” Sam said hospitably, but he didn’t move. “Thanks, but I’ll have to be hitting the trail. I want to ride down along the west drift fence today.” The major clicked his tongue, and touched the flanks of his spirited horse with his spurs. He galloped away over the meadow. Sam sat looking out across the waving grass. Five hundred dollars. And he hadn’t missed the amusement which greeted his offer to buy the mare. Sam was irritated. He wanted the filly more than ever now. He smiled and mumbled to himself. “The major’s goin’ to be plumb surprised when I dish out that five hundred.”