Now that spring a baby burro had been born in the corral. Young Bucky, they called the gray rascal. Such a cunning baby as he was, too, with his long, waggling ears, and almost hairless tail with just a tassel on the end of it.
At first he was so shy that every time Fuzzy-Wuzz came near, he would run for all he was worth. But gradually he got used to the fat brown cub.
The pack burros were gone on a trip to the settlement when it occurred to Fuzzy-Wuzz that he would like to take a little ride around the corral. Seeing no one but young Bucky, he leapt to his back.
The next thing Fuzzy knew, he was sailing into the air.
The next thing Fuzzy knew, he was sailing into the air, for Bucky, objecting to such a passenger, had simply given one big jump that sent the little bear flying off over his head. Nor did he stop at that. Coming with all four of his neat hoofs together, his back bowed, he leapt again and again, shaking his head angrily and grunting with the effort he had made.
After that, if Fuzzy came too near, he simply struck out at him with his hind feet, and it was only luck on Fuzzy’s part that he did not get a good kick.
CHAPTER XVIII
“AS STUBBORN AS A MULE”
“THERE is nothing like starting early,” said the Ranger one day, “when it comes to training animals and children. I am going to break young Bucky to the pack saddle.”