“Not until you called him that,” replied Dave.
“Well, Cadmus is a famous racer.”
“He looks it.”
“Oh, he’s made his name. Isn’t that so, beauty?”
“Take care,” again warned Dave. “Cadmus is still a little nervous.”
In fact the horse had resented any nearer approach of its master. Dave almost fancied that the intelligent animal pressed up close to himself, as if asking protection.
“Thinks he’s going to get the whip for breaking the rules,” said the man. “I’ll discipline him on feed, but I never strike one of my horses. I say, youngster, you’ve done me an immense favor. Will you carry it a little farther?”
“I’ll try,” replied Dave willingly.
“If you was going my way”—and the speaker nudged his shoulder down the road in the direction from which he had just come.
“Oh, any way suits me,” responded Dave quickly.