It was manifest that these arrivals were not loath to get the opinions of others.
"Van, there's a hoss!" exclaimed one.
"No, he ain't," replied Van.
And that diverse judgment appeared to be characteristic throughout.

The strange thing was that Macomber, the rancher, had already traded his mustang and money to boot for the sorrel.

The deal, whether wise or not, had been consummated.

Brackton came out with Red Wilson, and they had to have their say.
"Wal, durned if some of you fellers ain't kind an' complimentary," remarked Macomber, scratching his head.

"But then every feller can't have hoss sense." Then, looking up to see Lucy Bostil coming along the road, he brightened as if with inspiration.
Lucy was at home among them, and the shy eyes of the younger riders, especially Van, were nothing if not revealing.