"This concern has some joint--take it from me--every floor is just
bulgin' with hosses that's so classy they sends 'em to a manicure parlor
'stead of a blacksmith's shop.
"There's a big show-ring, with a balcony all 'round it, on the top floor.
They take my pair up there 'n' hook 'em to a hot wagon painted yellow,
'n' the company's main squeeze, named Brown, comes up to see 'em act.
I'm facin' the door just as a guy starts to lead a hoss into the
show-ring. The pair swings by, this hoss shies back sudden 'n' I see him
make a queer move with his off rear leg. Brown don't see it--he's got
his back to the door.
"The guy leads the hoss up to us.
"'Here's that hunter I phoned you about, Mr. Brown,' he says. The hoss
is a toppy trick--bright bay, short backed, good coupled 'n' 'll weigh
eleven hundred strong. But he's got a knot on his near-fore that shows
plain.
"'I thought you told me he was sound?' says Brown, lookin' at the knot.
"'What's the matter with you, Mr. Brown?' says the guy. 'That little
thing don't bother him. Any eight-year-old hunter that knows the game is
bound to be blemished in front.'
"'Can you tell an unsound one when you look at him?' Brown asks me.
"'I can smell a dink a mile off,' I says.
"'Here's an outside party,' says Brown; 'let's hear what he has to say.
Feel that bump, young man!' he says to me.
"I runs my hand over the knot.
"'That don't hurt him,' I says. 'It's on the shin 'n' part of it's thick
skin.
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