Of course when he felt the cut of the quirt, brought down with all the vigor of Billie’s stout arm, the pony no longer stopped to try and unseat his rider. He seemed to know that that was no longer possible; and accordingly he went dashing off at a mad pace that would necessitate the other chums urging their mounts on to do their level best, unless they wished to be distanced in the race.
So they went careering madly over the level prairie, with Billie leading, far in the van. The others managed to keep close enough together to exchange occasional remarks; and as they were constantly growing more curious concerning this strange freak of the broncho, it can be understood that they did more or less talking.
“You don’t think Billie can be at fault in any way for this sudden outbreak, do you, Donald?” Adrian queried.
“I don’t see how he could,” came the reply. “The horse was acting mighty queer when our pard first laid hands on the saddle. I noticed him jump just like he used to in the old days. Seems like he might have had a sudden return of that crazy spirit. The boys used to say it’d come back to him some day or other, and warned Billie never to fully trust Jupiter.”
“But the broncho has been acting more than halfway decent for a long time now,” Adrian went on to say, as he galloped swiftly along, keeping a wary
eye out for gopher holes, because he did not want to take chances with a broken neck by being suddenly pitched over the head of his mount; “and I really began to believe he’d never go back on Billie, for he seemed to have grown to love his master.”
“You can never tell what a broncho will do,” replied Donald, with his long experience as a guide; for he was a genuine prairie boy, much of his life having been spent on a cattle ranch; in fact he was even educated at home by his mother, who had once been a very clever teacher in a Chicago high school before marrying Mr. Mackay.
“Yes, they come of a wild race, and sometimes seem to feel a touch of the old free spirit that their ancestors enjoyed when they ran wild over the plains!” Adrian called out; for they had to raise their voices while speeding along at such a pace.
Billie kept lashing his mount furiously. It was the only method whereby a stubborn spirit in a pony could be subdued. The animal is to be taught that he has a master on his back, and that he must conform to the will of the rider, whether it is to run like the wind, or pull up. The first thing a broncho-buster does is to drive this idea well into the mind of his mount by whipping him constantly until he is fain to draw up when the lines begin to pull, from utter exhaustion. And after this seed has begun to take root it is comparatively easy to make an indelible impression by starting him off again with the
quirt, and the spurs, to pull him in from time to time until the lesson is well learned, never to be forgotten.