Laughing at his mirthful manner and odd sentences, Steenie led her new friend to the seat he designated; and folding her hands in her lap, said politely: “I’ll talk what more I know. ’Tisn’t much, I guess; only ’bout horses; I haven’t told you ’bout them yet, have I?”
“No. Horses? What? Whose? Go on.”
“Oh, ours!—No, yours, I s’pose they are. Maybe they’re the ‘boys.’ We’ve trained them beautifully. Tomaso and Connecticut Jim both say it can’t be beat. It’s great fun!”
“Don’t understand.”
“No, I s’pose not. But—this way, like a ‘circus,’ my father says. They’s thirty-three, all counted; and every man of us has tried to teach our horse something better ’n each other; and they’re just too cunning for anything! Bob’s kept the ‘cup’ for ever so long now; but I’m going to win it away from him some time,—see if I don’t! Oh, I forgot!” The eager little face suddenly drooped at memory of that terrible “going away,” which would be even earlier than the anticipated “some time.”
“Why, why!—delightful! Never heard anything like it! See it, can I,—eh?” demanded his lordship, whose love for horses was very great.
“I hope—I s’pose so. I don’t know. Kentucky Bob’s the head of us. We all have to mind him; and sometimes he don’t be very pleasant. But he’s very nice and honest, my father says; and I love him dearly. Then we can’t have a ‘circus’ till he gets over it again. My father says, too, it’s ’cause he has a ‘crank’ in him somewhere. I s’pose that’s what hurts him and makes him unpleasant. Don’t you?”
“No doubt. Bad complaint; quite general; touch myself. No, don’t go! All right to-day. But—where’s Kentucky Bob? Walk him out! Won’t refuse,—not me.”
“No, I don’t s’pose he would, on ’count of your being a lordship. If you don’t mind staying alone, I’ll run and ask him. I saw him cross the arroyo just a minute ago.”
“Trot; but come back.”