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Updated: June 8, 2025
If he heard Travers' attempt at conversation as the two stumbled together down the dark hill, he paid small attention. At the stables, aided by a smoky lantern, he picked out a tough-looking buckskin mustang, with an evil eye; and, using his own saddle and bridle, he finally led the half-broken animal outside. "That buckskin's the devil's own," protested Travers, careful to keep well to one side.
After that the bridle came off; and Buckskin's first natural act was to drop to the ground, and roll over several times. Bob was following this procedure with Domino.
"I think," he judged, as he tested the last stay and gave the engine its final adjustment. "I think, upon my word, this machine's better to-day than when she was first built. If I'm not mistaken, buckskin's a better material for planes than ever canvas was it's far stronger and less porous, for one thing and as for the stays, I prefer the braided hide. Wire's so liable to snap.
Twenty men promptly sprang to the buckskin's head, but she broke away, and wild with terror, bewildered, blind, insensate, charged into the corner of the barn by the musicians' stand. She brought up against the wall with cruel force and with impact of a sack of stones; her head was cut. She turned and charged again, bull-like, the blood streaming from her forehead.
Get me out. But even as she spoke the light faded from her eyes, she stretched out her hands to me, saying faintly, 'Oh, Duke, and lay back white and still. We put a bullet into the buckskin's head, and carried her home in our jackets, and there she lies without a sound from her poor, white lips." The Duke was badly cut up.
When certain on this point he cantered toward the band, sniffing inquiringly. Again the buckskin stallion charged, ears back, eyes gleaming wickedly and snorting defiantly. This time the black stood his ground until the buckskin's teeth snapped savagely within a few inches of his throat. Just in time did he rear and swerve.
"What do you mean by that?" "Just what I said. Look at that horse!" The buckskin's head was hanging, its legs were trembling, there was not a dry hair on it and the sweat was running in rivulets. Its sides were swollen at the stirrup where the spurs had pricked it, and the corners of its mouth were raw and bleeding.
"Say, Bud, I wisht ye'd come over yere an' look at this buckskin's off hind foot, an' tell me what ye thinks o' it. He's been actin' powerful queer on it all day." Bud rose lazily and followed Sol out of camp. The buckskin was grazing peacefully a few hundred yards away, and as they walked toward it Sol Flatbush said: "Bud, d'ye know that ole maverick?" "I shore don't.
"Buckskin's uneasy, you see," remarked Frank in a whisper; "he's pawing the ground and snorting as he always does when he scents danger."
For, without provocation or preliminaries, the buckskin's head had dived between his legs, his back arched like an indignant cat's, and with a vicious squeal he began to pitch. Dunne drew his quirt and let him have it. The brown, plaited leather played like lightning on quarters, flanks, cached head, and flattened ears. "No work, and a bellyful of oats three times a day!" he gritted.
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