"Is it a go?" repeated Aldous. "Including blankets, saddles, pack-saddles,
ropes, and canvases?"
Curly nodded, looking from Aldous to Stevens to see if he could detect
anything that looked like a joke.
"Hit's a go," he said.
Aldous handed him a check for sixteen hundred and eighty dollars.
"Make out the bill of sale to Stevens," he said. "I'm paying for them, but
they're Stevens' horses. And, look here, Curly, I'm buying them only with
your agreement that you'll say nothing about who paid for them. Will you
agree to that?"
Curly was joyously looking at the check.
"Gyve me a Bible," he demanded. "Hi'll swear Stevens p'id for them! I give
you the word of a Hinglish gentleman!"
Without another word Aldous opened the cabin door and was gone, leaving
Stevens quite as much amazed as the little Englishman whom everybody called
Curly, because he had no hair.
Aldous went at once to the station, and for the first time inquired into
the condition that was holding back the Tete Jaune train. He found that a
slide had given way, burying a section of track under gravel and rock. A
hundred men were at work clearing it away, and it was probable they would
finish by noon.
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