Buck caught the dangling reins near
the bit. Satan attempted to strike out with his forehoof. It was a
movement as clumsy and slow as the blow of a child, and Buck easily
avoided it. Realizing his helplessness Satan whinnied a heart-breaking
appeal for help to his unfailing friend, Black Bart. The wail of the
wolf answered dolefully from the house.
"Good Lord," groaned Buck. "Now we'll have that black devil on our
hands again."
"No, we won't," chuckled Sam, "the wolf won't leave Dan. Come on
along, old hoss."
Nevertheless it required hard labour to urge and drag the stallion
to the stable. At the end of that time they had the saddle off and a
manger full of fodder before him. They went back to the house with the
impression of having done a day's work.
"Which it shows the fool nature of a hoss," moralized Sam. "That
stallion would be willin' to lay right down and die for the man
that's jest rode him up to the front door of death, but he wishes
everlastingly that he had the strength to kick the daylight out of you
an' me that's been tryin' to take care of him. You jest write this
down inside your brain, Buck: a hoss is like a woman. They jest
nacherally ain't no reason in 'em!"
They found Dan in a heavy sleep, his breath coming irregularly.
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