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Updated: June 18, 2025
She's sixty hoss-power, and sometimes I reckon I could handle sixty hosses easier to once than I could her. We was lopin' along out in the desert, 'bout fifty miles an hour by the leetle clock on the dashboard, when all of a sudden she lays back her ears and she bucks. I leans back and keeps her head up, but it ain't no use. She gives a jump or two and says 'Guzzuh! jest like that, and quits.
Anyhow that wus my notion, an' as soon as Black Smoke went lopin' up the valley, I loaded up, an' climbed them bluffs, to whar I hed a good look-out erlong the north trail. I laid out thar all night. The storm come up, an' I mighty nigh froze, but snuggled down inter ther snow an' stuck. When yer onc't get a killin' freak on, yer goin' through hell an' high water ter get yer man.
It can fold them down backwards when the danger is a terrier and the decks are cleared for action, but that is another story. Contrast Brer Rabbit as he comes "lopin' up de big road," His ears are turning every way scouting for danger, not always in unison, but independently; but when he is at rest they are set to alarm from the flank and rear.
The' must 'a' been a cold snap here, an' all the easy spenders got froze up." "No, I mean you're wonderful well built," sez he. "Kin you ride a hoss?" "I can," sez I, "if he's kind an' gentle, an' I manage to get a good grip on the saddle horn, an' he don't start to lopin' or somethin' like that." "Do you know what a knight is?" sez he.
One of the small audience permitted her attention to be drawn for a moment from the gorgeous in-door spectacle, to follow the movements of her mistress. “Jis’ look Miss T’rèse how she go a lopin’ down de lane. Dere she go dere she go now she gone,” and she again became contemplative.
"Them looks like man's tracks, but a grizzly's got a foot like a nigger, and one of them big fellers makes a noise like a lopin' horse when he tears off through the bresh. I tell you, John, no human man that ever lived could take a live sheep and tear it up that a-way!"
You know I used to wonder if a fella's face would ever come smooth again in heaven. That was a spell ago. I ain't been worryin' about it none lately." "How old are you?" "Me? I'm huggin' thirty-five clost. But not so clost I can't hear thirty-six lopin' up right smart." "Only thirty-five!" exclaimed Winthrop. Then quickly, "Oh, I beg your pardon." "That's nothin'", said Overland genially.
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