Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: June 29, 2025
His mind made up, the Ramblin' Kid slipped the bridle again on Captain Jack, removed the saddle and with the blanket wiped the sweat from the broncho's back, smoothed the blanket, reset the saddle, carefully tightened front and rear cinches and mounting the little stallion guided him slowly down the ravine in the direction of the horses on the flat.
Before reaching the barn the Ramblin' Kid dropped the garter again into his pocket. Rounding the end of the shed he rode Captain Jack directly up to Carolyn June. Dismounting, he left the little roan standing, not troubling to drop the reins over the broncho's head, stepped toward the girl and extended the hat, saying simply and without emotion. "Here's your hat!"
That broncho's back was humped up like a mad cat's all the way around. 'Course Tad can ride. Wish I could ride half as well as he does. You needn't be afraid, Walter." Thus reassured by Chunky's praise, Walter dropped the bridle rein over the neck of his handsome new pony, and slid slowly to the ground. "All right, Tad. Jump up! But don't hold him too tightly.
He'll sulk in a minute," laughed the Texan, and true to the prophecy, the horse ceased his efforts and stood with legs wide apart and nose to the ground. "Whoopee!" "He's a ringtailed woozoo!" "Thumb him!" "Scratch him!" The crowd laughed and advised, and the cowboy thumbed and scratched, but the broncho's only sign of animation was a vicious switching of the tail.
Though Pierre's right hand was busied upholding the hunters' flag, and he had but one arm to bow-string the broncho's arching neck, the half-breed poet kept his seat with the easy grace of the plainsman born and bred in the saddle.
"We'll scramble down here, Jacob," he said to his broncho, so named by Brown, for that he had "supplanted" in Kalman's affection his first pony, the pinto. He dismounted, drew the reins over the broncho's head, and began the descent, followed by his horse, slipping, sliding, hanging on now by trees and now by jutting rocks.
A've a mind to go back an' have him oot; but that pot ash pate " what else the old man called her was more truthful than elegant for an expurgated age. They replaced the post of the barbed wire gate in its loop and mounted their horses. "Well, Sir?" asked Wayland. "I don't wish to offend your British sense of law; but which way now?" The old man left the reins hanging on the broncho's neck.
She remembered at that moment the time that a horse had struck Val with its forefeet, and torn the flesh from his chest, and how he had been brought home tied to a broncho's back. The thought of this drove her into the house, to have Val's bed prepared for the sufferer, whoever he was.
But Stacy did not stop. That is, he did not do so at once. The lad had shot neatly over the broncho's head, describing a nice curve in the air as he soared. Pock! His head landed with a muffled sound. "Ouch! Help!" A loud, angry bleat followed his exclamation. The lad's head had been driven with great violence against the soft, unresisting side of a Merino ram.
Where horse and rider lay was a good two miles, but within seven minutes he had reached the spot. Flinging the bridle over the broncho's neck, he dismounted. As he did so, a cry broke from him. It was, as it were, an answer to the "Oh, Orlando!" which had been ringing in his ears. There, lying upon the ground beside the horse, with its broken leg caught in a gopher's hole, was Louise.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking