He had not noted that little word, and now he had a difficulty in recalling it. But, as he reviewed the scene at Ukalla Jail in his mind once more, it came to him. He was not quite certain, but he fancied he had it. What if its strange power were true? It was a queer, soft, foreign-sounding word.
There could be no harm in giving it a trial and, if by lucky chance it proved successful, what a triumph he would have over the arrogant Mayor of Vernock, and over Jim Langford as well.
He smiled to himself now at his credulity, as he had done once at his incredulity over the same peculiar word. Then recurred to him that wonderful little saying of Will Shakespeare’s:––
“There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.”
Encouraged by the quotation and angered by Brenchfield’s cruelty, he decided to take a chance. He sprang to the mare’s head.
“Let the horse alone, man,” he cried. “Can’t you see you are only making her worse?”
“What the devil do you know about horses? She’ll eat you alive, you fool of a tenderfoot.”
“I’m willing to take a chance. Stand back and see what I know.”
Brenchfield gazed at him in surprise, but, ever ready to be enlightened, he stepped back.