"Steady, boy. Steady." She gave one of her sudden springs and landed astride his back, saddleless and halterless. He gave a startled snort and tore away around the paddock. Polly was now used to any new departure, but Nelly gave a little shriek and clasped her hands. "She is all right, don't be frightened," smiled Polly. "She can do anything with a horse; I sometimes think she must have been a horse herself once upon a time." Nelly looked puzzled, but Polly laughed. Meanwhile Peggy was talking to her unusual mount. He seemed a trifle bewildered, but presently struck into a long, sweeping run—the perfect stride of the racer. Peggy gave a quick little nod of understanding as she felt the long, gliding motion she knew so well. As she came around to her friends she reached forward and laying hold of a strand of the silvery mane, said softly: "Who—ooa. Steady." What was it in the girl's voice which commanded obedience? Salt stopped close to his mate and began to rub noses with him as though confiding a secret.
"Bud," commanded Peggy, "go to the stable and fetch me a snaffle bridle." The bridle was brought and carefully adjusted.
"Come, Salt, NOW we will put it to the test; those flank muscles mean something unless I'm mistaken."
During all this Shelby and Bolivar had come up to the paddock and stood watching the girl.
"Ain't she jist one fair clipper?" asked Shelby, proudly. "Lord, but that girl's worth about a dozen of your ornery kind. She's a thoroughbred all through, she is."
"Well, I ain't never seen nothin' like that, fer a fact, I ain't. I knowed them was good horses, but, well, I didn't know they was SADDLE horses."
"They've more'n SADDLE horses, man, an' I'm bettin' a month's wages your eyes'll fair pop out inside five minutes. I know HER ways. I larned 'em to her, some on 'em, at least—but most was born in her. They HAS ter be. There's some things can't be L'ARNT, man."
Once more Peggy started, this time her mount showing greater confidence in her. At first they loped lightly around the paddock, poor old Pepper alternately following, then stopping to look at his mate, apparently trying to reason it all out. Gradually the pace increased until once more Salt swept along in the stride which from time immemorial has distinguished racing blood. The fifth time around the broad field, Peggy turned him suddenly and making straight for the paling, cried in a ringing voice:
"On! On! Up—Over!"
The horse quivered, his muscles grew tense, then there was a gathering together of the best in him and the fence was taken as only running blood takes an obstacle.