But the devil (if that ain't too mild a name for the lion) wasn't after 'em. He knowed the colt had too much speed for him and never even thought of following him, and as it was he was just a lashing himself with his long tail and mad clear thru at the thought of missing such a nice fat yearling colt as Smoky was.
From that day on Smoky dodged high rocks unless he could see the top of 'em, pine trees with stout lower limbs had him a circling too, or any other place where a lion could perch on and spring from. The little horse was gradually getting so he was satisfied to be more with the bunch and not do so much investigating, besides he'd got first hand acquaintance with most all that prowled the range, and everything in general was getting to be less of a puzzle to him.
It all kept a getting to be less of a puzzle to him till finally there come a time when Smoky got so he thought he knowed it all. He figgered he had the world by the tail and with a downhill push. Like all the other colts of his age he was just where conceit had the best of him, he got strong headed and full of mischief, and then's when the older horses figgered him to be a regular pest and begin knocking on him.
He got strong headed and full of mischief, and then's when the older horses figgered him to be a regular pest.
He was getting to be of a size that could stand knocks too. They all took turns at him and pounded on his ribs every chance they had thru the rest of that summer and tried to set him where he belonged; but it was slow work and Smoky was still getting away with some of the bluffs when the first snows came. He was ornery all that winter, and even tho none of the horses would let him steal the grass they pawed up he aggravated 'em a lot by making 'em think he would; and when they'd kick at him, and miss, there was some more about his actions that sure let em know he was getting away with something.
Then one day a strange horse showed up on the skyline and joined the bunch. A strange horse is always sort of timid when first joining a new bunch that way, and Smoky took advantage of that to show there was at least one he had buffaloed,—he run the stranger around and around and kept a nipping him on the rump till the old pony was on the point of leaving and hunt new territory. That sport lasted off and on for a few days, and then one day the older horse turned and lit into Smoky. There was no battle, for Smoky was just running a bluff, and at the first turn of the events he evaporated and kept on evaporating till the stranger got cooled down a bit. After that Smoky kept his distance and acted willing to let the stranger stay with the bunch.
The winter wore on that way, and as Smoky was met hard at every ornery thing he'd do it all got to finally leave an impression on him and he gradually lost some of his conceit and hard headedness. But Spring came, other seasons and all kinds of weather followed and it wasn't till Smoky was a three year old that he really come anywheres living up to good range horse etiquette. There was so much life wrapped up in that pony's hide that it was mighty hard for him to settle down and behave, and even as a three year old he sometimes had to bust out and do things that wasn't at all proper and which made the old horses set their ears back and show their teeth.