Argosy and Railroad Man's Magazine, Vol. 107 No. 3 — page 18: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

360 ARGOSY AND RAILROAD MAN’S MAGAZINE. studyin’ over. Shucks! I don’t need that horse. I tell you what I'll do, duke ”— turning to Lambert, brisk as with a gush of sudden generosity—“ if you can ride that old pelter, I'll give him to you for a present. -.And I bet you’ll not git as cheap an offer of a horse as that ever in your life agin.” “T think it’s too generous—I wouldn’t want to take advantage of it,’’ Lambert told him, trying to show a modesty in the matter that he did not feel. “‘T ain’t a favorin’ you, duke; not a dol- lar. If I needed that horse, I’d hang onto him, and you wouldn’t git him a cent under thirty-five bucks; but when a man don’t need a horse, and it’s a expense on him, he can afford to give it away—he can give it away and make money. That’s what I’m a doin’, if you want to take me up.” “Tl take a look at him, Jim.” Jim got up with eagerness, and went to fetch a saddle and bridle from under the wagon. The others came into the transac- tion with lively interest. Only Taterleg edged round to Lambert, and whispered with his head turned away to look like in- nocence: “Watch out for him—he’s a bal’-faced hyeeny!”’ They trooped off to the corral, which was a temporary enclosure made of wire run among the little pines. Jim brought the horse out. It stood tamely eneugh to be saddled, with head drooping indifferently, and showed’ no deeper interest and no re- sentment over the operation of bridling, Jim talking all the time he worked, like the faker that he was, to draw off a too-close inspection of his wares. ~ “Qld Whetstone ain’t much to look at,” he said, “and as I told you, mister, he ain’t got no fancy gait; but he can bust the middle out of the breeze when he lays out a straight-ahead run. Ain’t a horse on this range can touch his tail when old Whetstone throws a ham into it and lets out his stren’th.” © oo “ He looks like he might go some,” Lam- bert commented in the vacuous way of a man who felt that he must say something, even though he didn’t know anything about it. Whetstone was rather above the stature of the general run of range horses, with clean legs and a good chest. But he was a hammer-headed, white-eyed, short-maned beast, of a pale water-color yellow, like an old dish. He had a beaten-down, bedrag- gled, and dispirited look about him, as if he had carried men’s burdens beyond his strength for a good while, and had no heart in him to take the road again. He had a scoundrelly way of rolling his eyes to watch all that went on about him without turning his head. Jim girthed him and cinched him, sound- -ly and securely, for no matter who was pitched off and smashed up in that ride, he didn’t want the saddle to turn and be ruined. ‘Well, there he stands, duke, and saddle and bridle goes with him if you’re able to ride him. I'll be generous; I won’t go half- way with you; Ill be whole hog or none. Saddle and bridle goes with Whetstone, all a free gift, if you can ride him, duke. I want to start you up right.” It was a safe offer, taking all precedent into account, for.no man ever had ridden Whetstone, not even his owner. The beast was an outlaw of the most pronounced type, with a repertory of tricks, calculated to get a man off his back, so extensive that he never seemed to repeat. He stood always as docilely as a camel to be saddled and bridled, with what method in this apparent ~ docility no man versed in horse philosophy ever had been able to reason out. Perhaps it was that he had been born with a spite against man, and this was his scheme for luring him on to his discomfiture and dis- grace. It was an expectant little group that stood by to witness this greenhorn’s rise and fall. According to his established methods, Whetstone would allow him to mount, still standing with that indifferent droop to his head. But one who was sharp would observe that he was rolling his old white eyes back to see, tipping his sharp ear like a wildcat to hear every scrape and creak of the leather. Then, with the man in the saddle, nobody knew what he would do. That uncertainty was what made Whet- stone valuable and interesting beyond any ECoOnniclboooks (C(O) mM