“Sorry to contradict you, Miss Chuckie,” said Gowan. “He put himself on.”
“He’s on yet,” dryly commented the cowman. “May be something to that boy, after all.” 91
“But, Daddy!––”
“Now, just stop fussing yourself, honey. He and Rocket are going smooth as axlegrease and bee-lining for Stockchute. How did the hawss start off?––skittish?”
“Enough to make the tenderfoot pull leather,” said Gowan.
“If he stuck at all, with that fool saddle––!” rejoined Knowles. “Don’t you worry, honey. He sure can fork a hawss––that tenderfoot.”
“Oh, yes,” the girl sighed with relief. “If Rocket started off bucking, and he kept his seat, of course it’s all right. See him take that gully!”
“You sure gave me a start, honey, calling out that way.––Well, Kid, it’s about time we were off. I’ll get my hat.”
Gowan stepped nearer the girl as her father went inside. “I’ll leave it to the tenderfoot to tell you, Miss Chuckie. He’ll have to own up I gave him fair warning. Told him he wouldn’t need his spurs, and asked if he’d have another bit and saddle; but it wasn’t any use. He’s the kind that won’t take advice.”
“I know you meant it as a joke, Kid. You did not realize the danger of his narrow stirrups. Had he been caught in mounting or had he been thrown, he would almost certainly have been dragged. And for you to give him our one ugly hawss!” 92