"You get White Foot and make it snappy."
Slats turned to obey but not before he gave Bob a look which made him determined to ride the horse at any cost.
"Please let me have him."
"You mean it?"
"Sure thing."
"All right, then. Your blood be on your own head."
As Sue had said, the horse had a bad look about the eyes and Bob knew horses well enough to realize that he was probably in for a bad half-hour, but, like most boys of spirit, he hated to take a dare.
"You be careful, now," Jack whispered as he stepped to the side of the horse.
"You bet I will," he replied, then, turning to Slats, was holding the horse by the bridle, he asked:
"What's his name?"