WHITEY LEARNS TO RIDE
"Look here, Whitey," said Bill Jordan, one afternoon, "kin yo' ride a hoss? If yo' an' this here Injun is goin' in cahoots, yo' gotta ride some!"
"I'm not what any one would call a good rider," said Whitey, "but I guess I can manage to stay on. I used to ride the horses down at Coney Island, and once or twice when we were in the country; but these horses are different. They don't wait till you get your seat before they whirl 'round and beat it!"
"Some of 'em is a mite hasty," admitted Bill, "but we got one or two nice, ol' hobby-hosses in the corral thet'll be 'bout yo'r size. Buck," he shouted to one of the cow-punchers nearby, "go bring thet ol' sorrel out'n the corral—thet is, pervidin' he's able to walk. Yo'll probably find him leanin' up agin the fence to keep from fallin' down. This here Whitey person is goin' to set on him fer a spell an' take a nap."
Buck took a halter and went into the corral, and soon returned leading the sorrel, which did not seem to be in any danger of falling down if he didn't have something to lean against. In fact, the sorrel was a pretty lively animal, and Whitey had his misgivings; but he knew that Bill Jordan would not allow him to mount a fractious or vicious horse, inexperienced as he was, and he made up his mind that he would "go through" with it. If he were to spend any length of time in the West, he knew that the sooner he learned to ride, the better off he would be, and the more he could enter into the work and play of the ranch—and, indeed, the very life of the West with which the horse is so inseparably associated. Then, too, he admired and marveled at the way Injun rode his pony, and the spirit of rivalry within him made him determine that he would not remain outclassed, for any long time, by a boy of his own age in any department of out-door life.
Bill watched Whitey narrowly, and it is probable that if he had seen any exhibition of "the white feather," he would have stopped the performance. For he knew that confidence is the main thing, and if the boy were timid, he might come to grief. But Whitey evidently did not have "cold feet."
"Buck, you keep the ol' rack-o'-bones from fallin' apart, an' I'll give the kid a hand," said Bill, offering to boost Whitey into the saddle.
"Let me try to mount myself," said Whitey. "I may be out on the prairie some time and it won't be convenient to come way back here to get you to boost me up."
"Correct," said Bill, tickled over the boy's refusal of his assistance. "It's always well to play a lone hand—ef yo' got the cards to do it!" And Whitey swung himself onto the horse in as near an imitation of the way of the ranchmen as he could.
Once he was mounted on the sorrel, after some elementary instructions from Bill as to mounting and keeping his seat by the knee-grip, Buck, who had stood at the horse's head, released his hold, and the sorrel started off at a lively clip; and if Whitey had not remembered his instructions and been prepared for just this thing, he would have been unseated. As it was, he had a narrow escape, but managed to stick on, to the great delight of Bill—and, incidentally, of himself! Every added minute on the horse gave added confidence to Whitey, and as he began to get the swing and rhythm of it, he already felt that exhilaration which comes from riding. Injun, of course, accompanied him, and the two boys rode around the big corral to which his first essay was confined.
Bill Jordan watched Whitey with considerable satisfaction; he had taken a great interest in the boy because he recognized in him many of the sterling qualities that go to make a man. He had not selected a "rocking-horse" for his first ride largely to see if Whitey would tackle what seemed to be a difficult undertaking without fear; and the manner in which the boy had "gone to it" pleased him immensely. He knew that there was really very little actual danger, for the sorrel was steady and "honest" and had no vicious traits, and there is such a thing as too much "babying."
Whitey was strong and confident, and there are worse things than a fall from a horse. Jordan knew, also, that if a rider starts on an "easy-chair" sort of a horse, he will learn many things which he must eventually un-learn. At any rate, the proof of the pudding is in the eating, and the manner in which Whitey performed justified his judgment. It would not do, of course, to start every boy in this way; but Whitey was an unusual boy, and Bill felt that he took very few chances.
In the next few days Whitey picked up a surprising lot of horsemanship and though he had a fall or two, when he attempted to do some of the "fancy stuff" that Injun and the cow-punchers showed him, he had no broken bones, and he felt that he was competent to ride almost anywhere and keep up the pace. Confidence, after all, is the main thing, and this Whitey had in large measure. And, what counts for much also, he was willing to be shown. He did not "know it all." Any boy who starts in a new game and thinks he knows it all will certainly come to grief.
The taking over of a new property like the big Bar O ranch and getting the run of things is no small job; and Mr. Sherwood was kept too busy to pay more than casual attention to Whitey. Thus the two boys were left almost entirely to themselves, although Bill Jordan kept an eye on them, as did many of the ranch-hands with whom they were favorites.