"He does
kick a little," admitted Jack, "but only for exercise. He
wouldn't hurt a fly. But he is so high-lifed that he has to kick
to ease his nerves once in a while."
"Thought I seen him whaling away at your wagon," returned the
man. "Couldn't have him round my place, 'cause my house ain't
very steady, and I reckon he'd have it kicked all to flinders
inside of a week."
He talked for some time, but finally went off when he found
that Jack was not willing to part with any horse except Old
Blacky.
The road was so sandy that the rain had not made much
difference with it, and we were soon again moving on at a good
rate. We were travelling in a direction a little north of west,
and from one to half a dozen miles south of the Niobrara River.
It would have been nearer to have kept north of the river, but we
were prevented by the Sioux and Ponca Indian reservations,
through which no one was allowed to go. Our intention was to
cross to the north of the river at Grand Rapids and get into the
Keya Paha country, about which we heard a great deal, keep
Straight west, and, after crossing the river twice more, reach
Fort Niobrara and the town of Valentine, beyond which were the
Sand Hills.
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