“Well, I never before saw a bull-dog made to quit his hold that way,” said one of the on-lookers.
“It’s the best way,” replied Reordan. “It’s a bull-dog’s nature to hold on when once he gets started, and he doesn’t know how to stop. There’s no use pounding him to make him let go. He simply can’t do it till the spasm in his jaw lets up, and I don’t know any better way to bring it about than this.”
“What did he tackle me for, anyway?” asked the man. “I didn’t do anything to him, and the first thing I knew he grabbed me by the leg.”
“He probably thought you didn’t have any business to take the horse off. He hangs round the engine-house a good deal;” and Reordan stroked old Jim’s nose, for the old horse had come up behind him and put his head over his shoulder.
“Well, if my trousers stood that, I guess they’ll stand all the work I’ll give ’em for quite a spell,” said the farmer good-naturedly, as he took Jim’s halter and started for home. “Say,” he added, as he saw Reordan’s eyes resting sadly on old Jim, “don’t you worry about the horse. I’ll look after him all right.”
This assurance lightened Reordan’s heart, and he returned to the engine-house feeling that the best had been done for old Jim that could be done.
The new off-horse arrived that day,—a fine young gray, with all the restless life that only a young creature possesses. He was a superb fellow, and he knew it, judging from the proud way in which he carried himself. He was so full of life that he couldn’t bring himself to walk sedately, but entered the engine-house with a springy step that showed his colt days were not far behind him. When he was brought to a stand-still, he pawed the floor in an impatient manner, as if he demanded instant attention.
“Do they expect that colt to take the place of old Jim?” asked one of the men.
“Oh, he’ll learn the whole business in a short time,” replied the man who brought him. “He’s very intelligent.”