"No. I don't want you to begin that way. Start without a pad, and you never will have to unlearn what you get. That's my advice. I'm going to set him at a gallop now. Stand straight and lean back a little."
The ring horse moved off at a slow, methodical gallop.
Phil promptly fell off, landing outside the ring, from where he picked himself up rather crestfallen.
"Never mind. You'll learn. You are doing splendidly," encouraged Dimples, assisting him to mount again. "There's the press agent, Mr. Dexter, watching you. Now do your prettiest. Do you know him?"
"No; I have not met him. He's the fellow that Teddy says blows up his words with a bicycle pump."
"That's fine. I shall have to tell him that. Remember, you always want to keep good friends with the press agent. He's the man who makes or unmakes you after you have passed the eagle eyes of the proprietor," Dimples laughed. "From what I hear I guess you stand pretty high with Mr. Sparling."
"I try to do what is right—do the best I know how."
She nodded, clucking to the gray and Phil stopped talking at once, for he was fully occupied in sticking to the horse, over whose back he sprawled every now and then in the most ridiculous of positions. But, before the afternoon's practice had ended, the lad had made distinct progress. He found himself able to stand erect, by the aid of the bridle rein, and to keep his position fairly well while the animal took a slow gallop. He had not yet quite gotten over the dizziness caused by the constant traveling about in a circle in the narrow ring, but Dimples assured him that, after a few more turns, this would wear off entirely.
After finishing the practice, Dimples led her horse back to the horse tent, promising Phil that they should meet the next afternoon.
Phil had no more than changed to his street clothes before he received a summons to go to Mr. Sparling in his private tent.