In the effort to aid the sufferer, Alden now removed the saddle and mail pouches. With his rifle they formed quite a burden, but he was strong and rugged, and knew he could carry them as fast and probably faster than his companion would travel.
“I ought to leave you here,” reflected the youth, “and I should do so, if I knew my way: I need you as a guide and shall have to suit my pace to yours.”
Once more he nursed the foreleg and after a time, ’Ceph set it down. He hobbled forward a score of paces before the limp reappeared. After that he kept it up until his master called to him to stop.
It looked as if the mustang understood what was asked of him, and was doing his utmost to grant it. Alden kept at his side, and as soon as he paused, patted his neck and spoke encouragingly.
’Ceph rested but a few minutes when he resumed his walk without any word from his master. The latter with amazement noted that the animal’s gait improved. He stepped off with increasing speed. Soon no limp was perceptible: he walked as well as ever!
“Good!” called Alden; “you’ve got pluck; I take back all I said against you. Whoa! whoa!”
Instead of obeying the youth hurrying at his heels, ’Ceph broke into a gallop and speedily passed from sight. Alden kept up the useless pursuit until exhausted. Then he stopped disgusted and angered. He understood the whole business.
It has been said that Bucephalus once belonged to a circus. He had been a trick pony and remembered several things. One of them was to get rid of a rider whom he disliked by pretending to be lame. He had worked the stratagem upon Alden Payne, who when too late saw through the whole mean business.