“Not the sorrel,” Scott said, “I meant the black.” The crowd perked up and nudged each other expectantly.
“Sixty-five dollars,” Mose answered with the same indifference; but the crowd held its breath. The supervisor looked at Scott curiously.
“I’ll take him,” Scott said with as much indifference as he could assume. He was really so excited that he could hardly talk. It seemed to him that there never had been anything which he wanted quite as badly as he wanted that horse. Jed Clark started up and waited anxiously with the others for the answer to the next question.
“Want to ride him home?” Mose drawled.
The supervisor listened anxiously along with the others. The situation had passed beyond his control. He knew that it would be extremely foolhardy for Scott, ignorant of Western horses as he was, to tackle that untamed, beautiful brute. It might mean serious injury, it would certainly keep him off of the job for a few days at a time when he was badly needed, and yet the supervisor knew that he would like Scott better if he accepted the challenge and fought it out before them all. If he did not attempt to ride the horse he had bought he would be generally branded as a coward, even by many men who would not dare try it themselves, but if he took his chance he would make a substantial advance in the appreciation of the community no matter how poor an exhibition he made.
“I’ll ride him if I can borrow a saddle and bridle,” Scott replied without the least hesitation. The crowd heaved a sigh of relief and Jed Clark settled comfortably back against the fence with a wink at his neighbor.
“Saddle him up, will you, Jed?” Mose called without changing his position or interrupting his conversation.
Jed was the only man in the country who could put his hand on that beautiful stallion without using a rope and there were very few who could rope him. He had taught him that as a colt but he had never tried to ride him. “Is the undertaker here?” he whispered to one of his friends as he climbed leisurely into the corral. The other horses dashed wildly into the opposite corner, but the big black stood his ground and watched his approaching master with head high and sensitive nostrils aquiver. He lowered his head a little condescendingly when Jed patted his shiny neck, took a lump of sugar with great relish, and allowed himself to be bridled without any objection. He was used to that. He followed along quietly enough when Jed led him over to the fence, and picked up a light English saddle, carefully wrapped in a blanket and slipped it gently over his back. Jed buckled the girth and whispered to one of his admirers, “He thinks it’s just a blanket, he’s used to that.”
“All right, you,” he called to Scott as he led the horse back to the middle of the corral.
The supervisor was just giving Scott a little final advice. “Don’t monkey with him any more than you have to before you get on, it makes ’em nervous. Walk right up, put your foot square in the stirrup, mount as quickly as you can without a jerk, be sure to catch the second stirrup, and hold on tight with your knees. Never let him see you hesitate or think that you are afraid of him.”