"What's a G-Dot?"
"There you go again. Do I look like a school-marm? A G-Dot is an Injun horse an' you can get on 'em from both sides or endways. Come on; Snake Creek crossin' is a good fifteen miles from here, an' we better pull out of this coulee while the moon holds."
Endicott managed to mount, and gathering up the reins urged his horse forward. But the animal refused to go and despite the man's utmost efforts, backed farther and farther into the brush.
"Just shove on them bridle reins a little," observed the Texan dryly. "I think he's swallerin' the bit. What you got him all yanked in for? D'you think the head-stall won't hold the bit in? Or ain't his mouth cut back far enough to suit you? These horses is broke to be rode with a loose rein. Give him his head an' he'll foller along."
A half-mile farther up the coulee, the Texan headed up a ravine that led to the level of the bench, and urging his horse into a long swinging trot, started for the mountains. Mile after mile they rode, the cowboy's lips now and then drawing into their peculiar smile as, out of the corner of his eye he watched the vain efforts of his companion to maintain a firm seat in the saddle. "He's game, though," he muttered, grudgingly. "He rides like a busted wind-mill an' it must be just tearin' hell out of him but he never squawks. An' the way he took that hangin'—— If he'd be'n raised right he'd sure made some tough hand. An' pilgrim or no pilgrim, the guts is there."
CHAPTER X
THE FLIGHT
When the Texan had departed Bat Lajune eyed the side-saddle with disgust. "Dat damn t'ing, she ain' no good. A'm git de reg'lar saddle."
Slowly he pushed open the side door of the hotel and paused in the darkened hallway to stare at the crack of yellow light that showed beneath the door of Number 11.
"A'm no lak' dis fool 'roun' wit' 'omen." He made a wry face and knocked gingerly.