Jack Among the Indians; Or, A Boy's Summer on the Buffalo Plains

by George Bird Grinnell

"Hold on, son," said Hugh, "that ain't no way to manage that horse; you'll never do nothing with a horse by getting angry at him and hammering him; keep cool, and you can conquer most any horse; get mad, and swear and kick and throw clubs, and you will spoil the best horse that ever lived."

"Well, confound it," said Jack, "I can't bridle him and it would make a saint mad to have to do with such a fool of a horse."

"Well, I guess that's so, but even if the saint did get mad, he wouldn't get his horse bridled. I want you to have sense, and not make a fool of yourself, even if the horse is one. Throw the bridle down on the ground, now, and put the saddle on him."

Jack felt a good deal ashamed of what he had done, and he knew that what Hugh had said was true, that nothing could be gained by getting angry. He got his saddle, folded the blanket, and saddled the horse. "Now," directed Hugh, "throw the end of your rope across the saddle, so that it hangs down on the off side." Jack did so, and then Hugh called him around to that side of the horse.

"Now," said he, "tie your rope around his fetlock," and when this had been done, he added, "now, take up his foot and bend his knee, and take a couple of turns of your rope around the saddle horn, so's to hold his foot up; now, slip round on the other side and put the bridle on him, quietly; don't be in a hurry."

Jack took up the bridle and opened it, and was about to try to pass it over the horse's head, when Hugh said, "Push against his shoulder hard." Jack did so, and the horse lost its balance a little and awkwardly lifted his front foot and put it down again, so that it could stand steadily.

"Now," said Hugh, "put your bridle on quietly." The horse paid no attention to the bridle, opened his teeth when Jack pressed his jaw, and in a moment the bridle was on and the throat-latch buckled.

"Now, turn his foot loose," said Hugh, "and we'll go on up to that clump of trees." Hugh took the sheep's head in one hand, mounted and started on, and Jack followed. As they rode up the valley, side by side, Hugh said, "That horse you're riding isn't a bad horse, and he isn't rightly a fool horse, either, but your uncle lent him last fall to a cow-puncher that was working for the Bar X outfit, and had lost his horse and stopped with us for a few days. That fellow didn't have the sense that God gave him; he was always hammering his horse in some way or other. If the horse didn't lead good, he'd take a club and pound it over the head. He came pretty near spoiling two or three horses he rode while he was here. Finally, one day Jo found him in the corral, hammering one of them young horses that was rode last summer, with a club, and he took the club away from the fellow and began to hammer him. The fellow tried to draw his gun, but Jo was too quick for him, and clinched him, and got the gun and threw it out of the corral. Then they fought all over the place, until Rube and Mr. Sturgis heard 'em, and came out and stopped it. When your uncle heard what had happened, he told that cow-puncher to take his blankets and walk, and the last they see of him he was walking.