Free The Horse Tamer by Walter Farley Page B

strode from the building as if he knew exactly where he was going and what he intended to do.
    The next day Bill Dailey visited the owner of the gray horse. If he could get Mr. Miller to give him another chance, other serious-minded horsemen wouldcome to watch his exhibition. But he met with flat refusal.
    “You are a humbug,” the elderly man said, shaking his bald head. “We can learn nothing from you.”
    Bill stood uncomfortably before the large office desk. “I can prove to you that I was really sick. I have a note from Dr. Patt.”
    “Oh, I don’t doubt that you were sick,” Mr. Miller answered, his eyes on the papers in front of him. “But you sold ninety-seven bottles of your taming medicine at ten dollars a bottle. That means you fleeced our citizens of nine hundred and seventy dollars.”
    “It was my manager who did it, not I. He’s gone. There won’t be any more sold.”
    The man shrugged his thin shoulders. “I don’t mean to tell you your business and, I suppose, you can sell as much of your medicine as you like if people want to buy it. I simply refuse to have any part in such transactions.
    “B-But it’s not what I wanted at all,” Bill persisted.
    The old man looked up from his desk. “We were led to believe it
wasn’t
, by your reputation. We had looked forward to—”
    “Then why don’t you give me another chance, Mr. Miller?” Bill pleaded. “I have never deceived people and pocketed their money. I’ll even open up the doors and let everyone in free for this first class!”
    “So you might sell more bottles of your Arabian Secret?”
    “Of course not!” Bill pounded furiously on the flat desk. “Can’t you understand that I mean every word Isay? I want you and your gray horse back
so I can prove the value of my system.
”
    Without answering, the old man studied Bill Dailey’s face. Then he turned back to the papers on his desk and shuffled them nervously.
    “Will you do it, Mr. Miller? Will you?”
    “I know my gray horse very well,” the old man answered gravely. “You cannot manage him.”
    “At least give me a chance to try.”
    “Is he the only case you’d have to exhibit?”
    Bill nodded. “All the other horses were removed by their owners. It won’t be the first time I’ve been limited to a particularly bad horse to manage. It won’t be the last.”
    “No, I guess it won’t,” the old man said, looking up from his desk. “And you don’t like it at all, do you?”
    “No,” Bill admitted. “Cases like that don’t prove the true value of my system. People who watch me work so hard on extremely bad horses think it would be just as difficult handling an
average
horse, and it wouldn’t be at all.”
    Mr. Miller smiled for the first time. “But I don’t suppose bad horses hurt your reputation any.”
    “No, they don’t. But that kind of publicity isn’t what I’m after.”
    The old man rose to his feet, extending his hand. “I’m afraid I can’t help you, Professor. I’m sorry. You see, my horse …”
    Bill felt the sudden rise of anger within him. He sought to quell it by saying quietly, “I know your horse is worthless but I’ll give you five hundred dollars for him.”
    The smile left Mr. Miller’s face and his hand dropped to his side. “You’d pay that much money just to get him in the ring with you?”
    Bill nodded.
    The old man said, “You’re right, of course, in saying that he’s worthless. It’s ridiculous for you to pay five hundred dollars for the opportunity of exhibiting your methods upon him. You cannot possibly succeed. No one could.”
    Bill ignored the man’s challenge. He took five hundred dollars from his wallet, all the money he had left in the world, and placed it on the desk. “Will you sell him to me?”
    Mr. Miller nodded and Bill Dailey left the room. He had made the worst purchase of his life. But he had done it for the chance to demonstrate that there were no secrets to good horse management … while