Pat was standing motionless. But he was keenly alert. He heard the man draw near, felt the hand creeping along his neck, but he had learned his lesson well. He reared and struck again–this time only empty air. Yet, as he returned to earth, almost before he touched ground, the hand was around his ear, another was around his other ear, he was feeling the dread twist again, twofold. Every twitch of muscle, every least gasp for air, sent excruciating pain throughout the ends of him. Fearing to move, yet clamoring for breath, he slowly opened his mouth.
Which was what they wanted, evidently. He felt a cold something suddenly thrust between his teeth. It was hard as well as cold. He tasted it, rolled it over his tongue, and found it not painful. Then came something else. His head was being hurriedly fitted with a leathery contrivance. But neither was this painful, save only as it touched his twisted ears, and he therefore experienced no increasing alarm. Then, with this adjusted, he was introduced to something else–a something held close under his nose. He smelled this carefully; noted that it reeked with odors of the stable; smelled it again. Next he knew it was being placed gently upon his back. It was soft, and quite hairy, and though it irritated him a little, he accepted it without loss of composure. But when it was followed, as it was directly, by a heavier something, a something fitting his back snug and hard, he instantly determined to rebel, despite his twisted ears. But he could not withstand the increased pain, and he permitted the thing to be made secure with straps around his body. And now came a heavier something, a free and loose weight, something with spring and give to it, and which had flung up from the ground. And suddenly, flaying his pained senses, understanding flashed upon him. This was a man. There was a tormentor upon his back, gripping the thing in his mouth, holding him solidly to the ground. He–
“Go!”
It was a word of command. With the word Pat felt his ears released. As he thrilled with relief the cloth was jerked off his eyes. For a time the fierce daylight blinded him. Then the pupils of his eyes contracted and all objects stood out clearly again–the men in the corral, the spectators on the fence, his mistress outside the fence. Also he saw the sunlit stable, and Miguel in the doorway, and the house in the trees. All had come back to him, and he stood gazing about him blinkingly, trying to understand, conscious of straps binding his body and restraining his breathing.
Then suddenly he understood–remembered–remembered that he had been abused, had been tortured as never before. And he awoke to the fact that he was still being tortured. There was this thing in his mouth. There was this contraption on his head. There was that thing on his back, and the weight upon the thing. Also, there was that binding of his belly, and the irritation due to the prickly something pressing his back and sides. All these facts stung him, and under the whip of them he awoke to a mighty urging within. It was his fighting spirit rekindling–the thing that was his birthright, the thing come down to him from his ancestors, the thing that told him to rebel against the unnatural. And heeding this, voice, heeding it because he knew no other, he decided to give decisive battle.
In a frenzy of effort he suddenly reared. He pirouetted on hind legs; pawed the air with fore legs; lost his balance. Failing to recover himself, he went over backward. He struck the earth resoundingly, but he realized that the weight was gone, and he felt a faint glow of victory!
“Wow!” yelled a spectator, excitedly.
Pat heard this and hastily regained his feet. And because he was uncertain of his next move he remained motionless. This was a mistake, as he soon discovered. For he saw two men leap, grasp both his ears; felt the dread twist again. So he remained still, and he felt the man mount again. Then came rumbling in upon his tortured soul again the insistent voice telling him to rebel further, and to keep on rebelling until through sheer brute strength he had mastered these unnatural things. With the grip on his ears released he once more gave heed to this clamoring within.
He leaped straight up into the air. Returning to earth with nerve-shattering shock, he whirled suddenly, pitched and bucked, tossed and twisted, all in mad effort. But the weight clung fast. He whirled again, and again leaped, leaped clear of the ground, returning to it this time on stiffened legs. But he could not shake off the weight. He flung across the corral, twisting, writhing, bucking; flung back again–heart thumping, lungs shrieking for air, muscles wrenching and straining; and again across, responding, and continuing to respond, to the ringing voice within, like the king of kings that he was. But he could not dislodge the weight.
“Great!” yelled an excited spectator.