“Humph! Who is this oracle, ‘Bob’?”
Steenie explained, and the Judge was so interested that he exclaimed: “I wonder if I couldn’t induce him to come out here and take care of my stock-farm?”
“Maybe,” answered Steenie; “but I don’t guess so. He says there isn’t room enough for his lungs out East. He needs a great deal of breathin’ space.”
“Well—Bob or no Bob—will you give an old man like me a few lessons in horse-break—What word shall I use?”
“It’s teaching,—just teaching ’em. Like Beatrice an’ I go to school. It’s funny for me to tell you things, isn’t it? ’Cause my grandmother thinks you’re a—what did she call it! A very wonderful magician—no, lo-gician; and when I asked her what that was, she said maybe I could understand ‘smart’ better.”
“Thank you. Now, when shall our next lesson be?”
“To-morrow—to-morrow—that ever is. ’Cause it doesn’t do to let Diablo forget us. He’s same as babies yet. He hasn’t learned to remember.”
“To-morrow, then; and I am greatly indebted to you. I believe—with both halves of my mind, now—I will decide to act wholly upon your suggestion, and see what comes of it. I will train him for myself, alone. I shall be at home, hereafter, for some weeks; and the opportunity is mine.”
“Oh, how glad I am! Do you hear that, Diablo, darling? You’re going to be nobody’s horse but just this kind, kind man’s! You’re never to be whipped, nor loaded, nor over-driven, nor checked-back, nor strapped-down, nor anything horrid like these queer Old Knollsboro folks do to horses!”
“Hold on, hold on! I have not promised any of these ‘thousand and one’ things, little lady! I shall want him to be useful.”