“Who is that?” asked Lamora, pointing up the cañon.
“That’s Teddy now.”
So it proved; the Irishman was discerned, on the back of one of the cantering horses, and leading two others that seemed very frisky and lively.
As they came near, it was noticed that Teddy’s face was very red, as though he were perspiring, and it was evident that he was about as angry as he could possibly be. He had a horse on either side of him, each held by halters that were twisted around his respective wrists.
The horse on the right had a habit of holding suddenly back, or starting spasmodically forward, that threatened to jerk the rider off his own animal; but as, at the critical juncture, the other horse gave a yank in the other direction, this catastrophe was prevented.
This kept Teddy upon his beast, but, at the same time, it was not pleasant to have the shoulders so nearly dislocated. As the only thing possible under the circumstances, he made furious and repeated attempts to kick the playful animals, but they seemed to know enough to keep out of his reach, and had a high opinion of the sport.
The fact was, they had been living in “clover” for the last few days, and they “felt their condition.” They enjoyed it.
“Whoa, there!” shrieked Teddy, as he threw his body back, and grew still redder in the face, and the horses flung up their heads and laughed, so far as it is possible for an equine to smile. “Ef I only had my shillaleh, I’d break your heads! Whoa, there, ye spalpeens!”
It was amusing to the witnesses of these maneuvers, as the animals came prancing forward, and finally settled to rest in front of the party.