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"And that's a good horse, too; only you want to 'ware heels. I remember that he's a kicker." "Oh! Fatty don't keer if his fust name's Kickapoo," jeered Fred. The black and white pony gave Obendorf all the work he wanted for some minutes, however, and afforded the spectators much excitement. He wasn't a bucking bronco, but he showed plainly his dislike for human management.
"If you go on this way," he said, with some severity, "you will presently be neither loved nor respected. There was a time, though, when you were an excellent shot, Herr Heinrich Obendorf." "I had my orders, highness," said the other stolidly. "Oh yes, of course," Paul Vanderhoffen answered. "You had your orders from Augustus!" He seemed to think of something very far away.
I happen to know your cousin has entrusted the affair to Heinrich Obendorf, his foster-brother, who, as you will remember, is not particularly squeamish." Paul Vanderhoffen thought a while. "Desmarets," he said at last, "it is no use. I scorn your pribbles and your prabbles. I bargained with Augustus. I traded a duchy for my personal liberty.
"Ain't lil' old Fatty good for suthin'? Yuh could suah use him tuh tie a steamboat tuh what!" For all the fun the other punchers made of Fatty Obendorf, he had his selection out of the herd blindfolded, bridled, and saddled, before any other pony was noosed. "Good for you, Fatty!" cried Frances, who was perched on the corral fence with the other girls.
Some of the half-wild ponies rolled their eyes, snorted, and galloped to the far side of the corral the instant the visitors appeared. "Get your reserved seats, gals!" cried Fred Purchase, preparing to open the gate. "Roost all along the rail up there and watch the fun. I bet Fatty Obendorf falls off and breaks a suspender-button fust throw out of the box!"
"Ain't you a-gwine to accord me no praise? Don't I look as purty on hawseback as that fat chunk does?" he added, referring to Obendorf. "You know very well," called Frances, from the seat of judgment, "that I drove that speckled pony to my little jumpcart two years ago. That's Chippy and he's almost as big a bluff, Fred, as you are!
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