"Bring in a saddle and bridle," I suggested, "and I'll bit him and hold him while two of you saddle him and until one of you mounts him. He should be no more dangerous than a roped filly."
They did as I suggested and I then rode him about until he appeared used to the saddle and bit and already, at once, bridle-wise. Then one of the wranglers rode him.
I gentled colt after colt all that day till sunset, with a very brief pause for food and rest. Also I kept it up next day until mid-afternoon, when the last colt had been tamed.
Then, as we stood breathing, one of the horse-wranglers suggested:
"Try him on Selinus."
"That would be plain murder," one of the others cried.
"I am not so sure," the Villicus ruminated. "I am almost ready to feel that he might even tame Selinus."
Off we trooped to the stable of the choice breeding-stallions. There, in a darkened box-stall, I was shown a beautiful demon of a horse, four years old, a sorrel, with a white face and white forefeet. He certainly looked wicked enough.
"Will you try him?" the Villicus asked me.
"Of course," I said. "Let him out into the yard or the paddock."