He pranced sideways a little and
shook his head up and down in an effort to regain his former temper,
but that iron hand kept his nose down, now, and that quiet voice
sounded above him--no cursing, no raking of sharp spurs to torture his
tender flanks, no whir of the quirt, but a calm voice of authority and
understanding. Red Pete broke into an easy canter and in this fashion
they came up to Morgan in the road. Red Pete snorted and started to
shy, for he recognized the clumsy, bouncing weight which had insulted
his back not long before; but this quiet voiced master reassured him,
and he came to a halt.
"That red devil has cost me a hundred bones and all the skin on my
knees," groaned Morgan, "and I can hardly walk. Damn his eyes. But
say, Dan"--and his eyes glowed with an admiration which made him
momentarily forget his pains--"that was some circus stunt you done
down the road there--that changin' of saddles on the run, I never seen
the equal of it!"
"If you got hurt in the fall," said Dan quietly, overlooking the
latter part of the speech, "why don't you climb onto Satan. He'll take
you back."
Morgan laughed.
"Say, kid, I'd take a chance with Satan, but there ain't any hospital
for fools handy.
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