He stepped back several feet and stood looking at the pony, who, with ears flattened and the whites of his eyes showing, stood still also, waiting for further developments.
He didn't know exactly what was coming, but wanted to be ready for it, whatever it was to be.
Suddenly Ted gave a short, swift run, leaped in the air, and before Bingo could gather himself for a plunge, Ted was astraddle of the saddle.
Bingo remembered his part then, but he was too late, for simultaneously he felt the sting of the quirt across his shoulder, and the prick of the spur in his flank.
A horse can think of only one thing at a time, while a mule can pay attention to the mule-skinner's lash and think of forty-seven varieties of devilment at the same time.
In trying to keep his mind on the sting of the quirt and the prick of the rowels at the same time, Bingo got rattled.
He leaped high into the air, intending to fall backward, and crush his rider. But Ted had been there before many times, and as he went up a stinging blow across Bingo's withers brought him down in a hurry.
Then he did some more plunging, but the spur in his side, and Ted's firm seat, soon convinced him that it was wasting time to fool with Ted, and he set off at a gallop across the prairie.
With a ringing cheer the boys followed, and soon caught up with him.
When they were together again, Ted paired the boys off to scout.