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Updated: June 26, 2025
I just said to her, Now, Spottie, wouldn't you like to go in my box? and she said, Yes; and I made her such a comfy bed, and then I stuck all those frocks on the top of her to keep her warm. Why did you let her out, Nana?" "You little mischief," said Nana, "do you know you might have smothered poor little Spot?
When the saddle was thrown and strapped in place the mustang showed to advantage. He was beautiful, but not too graceful or sleek or fine-pointed or prancing to prejudice any cowboy against his qualities for work. Jack Belllounds admiringly walked all around the mustang a little too close to please Spottie.
He measured the tracks of your horse's left front foot the bad hoof, you know, an' he made a shoe exactly the same as Spottie wears. Also, he made some kind of a contraption that's like the end of your crutch. These he packs with him. I saw him ride across the pasture to hide his tracks, climb up the sage for the same reason, an' then hide in that grove of aspens over there near the trail you use.
Many hard words, and blows, too, he had dealt cowboys for being brutal. "What'd he do?" "Look at Spottie's mouth." The rancher's way of approaching a horse was singularly different from his son's, notwithstanding the fact that Spottie knew him and showed no uneasiness. The examination took only a moment. "Tongue cut bad. Thet's a damn shame. Take thet bridle off.... There.
Now, if you get up on Spottie you'll excite him. He's high-strung, nervous. That'll be bad for him, as he hates cutting-out and roping." The reasonableness of this argument was lost upon Belllounds. "Moore, maybe it'd interest you to know that I'm foreman of White Slides," he asserted, not without loftiness. His speech manifestly decided something vital for the cowboy.
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