Farmer Boy by Laura Ingalls Wilder Page B

of his mustache into a sharper point.
    Father led out the colts. They were perfectly matched Morgans, exactly the same size, the same shape, the same bright brown all over, with the same white stars on their foreheads. They arched their necks and picked up their little feet daintily.
    “Four years old in May, sound in wind and limb, not a blemish on them,” Father said. “Broken to drive double or single. They're high-spirited, full of ginger, and gentle as kittens. A lady can drive them.”
    Almanzo listened. He was excited, but he remembered carefully everything that Father and the horse-buyer said. Some day he would be trading horses, himself.
    The buyer felt the colts' legs, he opened their mouths and looked at their teeth. Father had nothing to fear from that; he had told the truth about the colts' age. Then the buyer stood back and watched, while Father took each colt on a long rope and made it walk, trot, and gallop in a circle around him.
    “Look at that action,” Father said.
    The shining black manes and tails rippled in the air. Brown lights flowed over their smooth bodies, and their delicate feet seemed hardly to touch the ground. Round and round they went, like a tune.
    The buyer looked. He tried to find fault, but he couldn't. The colts stood still, and Father waited.
    Finally the buyer offered $175 apiece.
    Father said he couldn't take less than $225. Almanzo knew he said that, because he wanted $200. Nick Brown had told him that horse-buyers were paying that much.
    Then Father hitched both colts to the buggy.
    He and the buyer climbed in, and away they went down the road. The colts' heads were high, their noses stretched out; their manes and tails blew in the wind of their speed, and their flashing legs moved all together, as though the colts were one colt. The buggy was gone out of sight in a minute.
    Almanzo knew he must go on with the chores.
    He went into the barn and took the pitchfork; then he put it down and came out to watch for the colts' return.
    When they came back, Father and the buyer had not agreed on the price. Father tugged at his beard, and the buyer twisted his mustache. The buyer talked about the expense of taking the colts to New York, and about the low prices there.
    He had to think of his profit. The best he could offer was $175.
    Father said: “I'll split the difference. Two hundred dollars, and that's my last price.”
    The buyer thought, and answered, “I don't see my way clear to pay that.”
    “All right,” Father said. “No hard feelings, and we'll be glad to have you stay to supper.”
    He began to unhitch the colts. The buyer said:
    "Over by Saranac they're selling better horses than these for one hundred and seventy-five dollars."
    Father didn't answer. He unhitched the colts and led them toward their stalls. Then the buyer said:
    “All right, two hundred it is. I'll lose money by it, but here you are.” He took a fat wallet out of his pocket and gave Father $200 to bind the bargain. “Bring them to town tomorrow, and get the rest.”
    The colts were sold, at Father's price.
    The buyer would not stay to supper. He rode away, and Father took the money to Mother in the kitchen. Mother exclaimed:
    “You mean to say we must keep all that money in the house overnight!”
    “It's too late to take it to the bank,” Father said. “We're safe enough. Nobody but us knows the money's here.”
    “I declare I sha'n't sleep a wink!”
    “The Lord will take care of us,” Father said.
    “The Lord helps them that help themselves,”
    Mother replied. "I wish to goodness that money was safe in the bank."
    It was already past chore-time, and Almanzo had to hurry to the barn with the milk-pails. If cows are not milked at exactly the same time, night and morning, they will not give so much milk. Then there were the mangers and stalls to clean and all the stock to feed. It was almost eight o'clock before everything was done, and Mother was keeping supper warm.
    Supper-time was not as