Felicia’s horse champed its bit and restlessly stamped the ground.
“That horse acts awful queer,” said the boy. “He has got a funny look in his eye, just the same as a horse I once saw that was locoed. You know what that is, don’t you?”
Felicia laughed.
“I was born in the West,” she said. “Of course I know what it means when an animal is locoed. They have been eating loco weed and it makes them crazy. But I don’t think this horse has been doing that.”
“Never can tell,” said the hunchback.
“Why, it should have shown on him before.”
“Not always. Sometimes it breaks out awful unexpected. Look how your horse rolls its eyes. Say, I’m going to——”
Abe did not tell what he was going to do, for, starting his own horse forward, he reached for the bridle of Felicia’s animal. To the horse it seemed that the boy’s hand was large as a grizzly bear. The animal started back with a snort of alarm, quivering with sudden terror.
“Whoa! whoa!” cried Abe, hastening in his attempt to seize the creature’s bit.
These efforts simply served to add to the horse’s fear, and suddenly he wheeled and went tearing away, Felicia being unable to check its flight.