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Updated: May 7, 2025
Pio Chino fined one drink for taking up our valuable time; Abe Sellers fined one drink for claiming such an old crow-bait on any grounds; Sam is fined one drink for not putting a blanket on that mare." Hugely tickled, the meeting arose. Pio Chino, to whom the tidings of his bell mare's demise was evidently news, stood the picture of dejected woe.
But having come to the door of his box, I was astounded to see slouching lazily in a corner with eyes closed, the nigh hip dropped low, a horse that at first glance appeared to be Don Quixote's Rosinante reincarnate, a gigantic "crow-bait" with a head as long and coarse as an eighteen-hand mule's, an under lip pendulous as a camel's dropping ears nearly long enough to brush flies off his nostrils, with such an ingrowing concavity of under jaw and convexity of face as would have enabled his head to supply the third of a nine-foot circle, a face curved as a scimitar and nearly as sharp.
And if she took the steep, winding trail that the Lorrigans rode, the trail where old man Lorrigan's horse had fallen down with him, she could be at the house in a very few minutes. "Ye look little enough like a runaway horse, ye wind-broken, spavined old crow-bait, you!" she criticized Rab as he stood half asleep in the sun.
"Come on, crow-bait!" yelled Brann, insultingly, as he came down past the doctor, and seemed about to pass Albert and Maud. There was hate in the glare of his eyes. But he did not pass. The old sorrel seemed to lengthen; to the spectators his nose appeared to be glued to the glossy side of Brann's off black. "See them blacks trot!" shouted Albert, in ungrammatical enthusiasm.
I succeeded in buying a very poor excuse of a horse for a hundred dollars, that under any other circumstances I would not have accepted as a gracious gift. But it was "Hopkins' choice," that or none. Mounting my crow-bait, I struck out in a westerly direction to look for the stock. Three days' ride from the fort I struck plenty of cattle sign.
"Why why, dod-gast you, sir, what do you think I am a hitchin'-post?" exploded on the lips of the new detective. His face was flaming red. "You'll have to excuse me, my good man, but I thought I saw a hitching-rack as I drove up. Ah, here it is. How careless of me. But say, I won't be in the store more than a second, and it doesn't seem worth while to tie the old crow-bait.
At length we did find a tall, red-haired Walloon who said he would go anywhere on earth, and provide a team for the going, if we paid the price he asked. We paid it in advance, in case anything should happen on the way, and he took us in a venerable open carriage behind two crow-bait skeletons that had once, in a happier day when hay was cheaper, been horses.
You've got good water, but Cactus City is better lit up." "We've got a few lights on Broadway, don't you think, Mr. Platt?" "And a good many shadows," said Platt. "I think I like your horses best. I haven't seen a crow-bait since I've been in town." Zizzbaum led him up stairs to show the samples of suits. "Ask Miss Asher to come," he said to a clerk.
The old renegade did his best to twist around for a shot at us; but it was no go; and I never enjoyed hog-tying a critter more in my life than I enjoyed hog-tying Texas Pete. Then we turned to see what damage had been done. We were some relieved to find the family all right, but Texas Pete had bored one of them poor old crow-bait hosses plumb through the head.
"Let me set out in the open once, with a good horse under me instead of a specimen of crow-bait, and I'll open your eyes!" But this was not to be just yet. Floyd, too, was a good rider, but his sister had more of a natural knack with ponies, and often bested him in a race. He too, now swung a leg over the saddle and mounted.
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