“Look!” yelps Windy. “——’s bells, look what’s comin’!”
Up the road comes a cloud of dust and in and out of that cloud goes a dust-colored horse, bucking like a crazy animal. Sunfish, worm fence, swapping ends and spinning like a top. Straight for the gate it comes, bucking straight for us. We climbs the corral fence just as the animal pitches straight into it, and goes down in a splinter of cottonwood poles and a cloud of dust.
I fell off the fence and got up just in time to see Hashknife untangle himself and step away from the horse. He looks down at it, trying to get up, and then at Windy.
“That’s a —— vigorous animal, Windy,” says he foolish-like, and then he takes a deep breath and says——
“Get your Winchester and saddle—quick!”
“Why—uh—why—” grunts Windy.
“——!” he explodes. “Get into action, will yuh! I’ll tell yuh later.”
Well, it didn’t take us long to saddle up, get our rifles and breeze off down the road, Hashknife in the lead.
“Mary Jane,” he grunts, as we swing in close to him. “She saddled that gray bronc. Wanted to ride, asked me to go with her. I didn’t like the looks of that gray, so I traded with her. We went halfway to town. I saw that the gray wasn’t bridlewise, but he didn’t act bad until we met the sheriff, and then he got restless. Sabe?”