"We won't be so long going back," he said. "We will use their horses."
This was easier said than done, for when any of the crew approached Caliente, that noble animal became transformed into a tiger and as he came for them with bared teeth or whirled and kicked out with his heels, they decided that discretion was the better part of valor and they left him alone. Sailors at best are not very clever horsemen.
"Let me have a chance and I'll quiet him for you," volunteered Jim gruffly. "I don't want to see you poor fellows eaten alive."
"My lad," said the Skipper solemnly, "I'm no spring chicken and you can't catch me with any such chaff."
CHAPTER XI
MISSOURI'S MANŒUVRE
The other three horses proved more tractable than Caliente, and after some skirmishing they managed to get their new ships rigged up with the saddles and other tackle. Now as soon as they got their cargo aboard, they would be prepared to set sail and to cruise over the plains. (I must use this nautical language out of respect for Captain Broom and his crew.)
As I have said before, sailors are poor horsemen and when it came to making fast the double cinches, they were quite at sea, where sailors should be, perhaps. Old Pete came near getting his head kicked off by pulling the back cinch too tight, but he and Captain Broom profited by their youthful experience on a New England farm, so the horses were finally all saddled and bridled and ready for a flight—except Caliente. He was to be left marooned in the lonely canyon.