Loose stumps, branches, pieces of old wagons, and everything that could be drug or moved was roped,—anything that was light enough was pulled up for Smoky to investigate, and each time he was showed that he'd been shying and fighting for no reason, till finally, nothing could be found that brought any more than a snort from him. An old coal oil can was then roped and brought up a rattling under Smoky's nose, but he even stood his ground at that.
He was learned to pull on the rope and made to drag things as heavy as a yearling critter. Then gradually Clint made him keep the rope tight and hold it that way till a couple of light jerks on it made him give slack. All that took time, and the cowboy learned him only one thing each day, sometimes very little of that one thing,—but as the days went by it all accumulated to a lot.
It done Clint's heart good to watch the way Smoky was taking to things, his little ears worked back and forth, and with his eyes he never missed a move that went on, his nostrils quivered at all that was new, and the cowboy was noticing with a glad feeling that the pony was putting a lot of trust in him, a word from that cowboy, or a touch from his hand was getting to mean a lot when that pony was dubious or at the point of scaring at some new happening.
Clint hunted up a bunch of cattle one day and acquainted Smoky with some pointers in the handling of the critters. He'd haze the horse in the bunch, cut out some fat kinky yearling, and make him put his interest on that yearling only. All was a puzzle to Smoky at first, and he had no idea of what he should do, but Clint give him his time, and coaching him along it wasn't but a few days when the little horse understood some of what was wanted of him. In the meantime the teachings with the rope wasn't left behind, that went along with working cattle, and once in a while Clint would snare some big calf and make Smoky keep his nose along that rope while the calf circled, bucked, and bellered.
Smoky showed signs of liking all that went on. He took interest in it the same as a kid would to some new game,—he liked to chase the wild eyed cow, turn her when she didn't want to be turned, and put her where she didn't want to be put, he liked to hold the rope tight on one of the critters and feel that he was the one that was keeping 'er down. It all struck him as a kind of a game where every animal before him had to do as he and the cowboy wished.
He liked to chase the wild-eyed cow, turn her when she didn't want to be turned, and put her where she didn't want to be put.
He was all for catching on and not a nerve in him was idle as Clint would take him of evenings and ride him out for a spell, and chase, cut out, or rope at the critter. Them goings on had his mind occupied and the fact that he'd figger and think on the subject between times was proved by the way he'd go at things in a decided and knowing how way, when the day before the same thing had left him puzzled and wondering.