Tom's animal was a sorrel with his forefeet white. He was the best looking among the three, but that was not saying much. However for real work they were tireless, and could stand almost anything.
We finally got our ponies in line and the captain held his pistol high over his head.
"Are you ready?"
"Ready," we replied in unison, grasping tight the lines.
Then he fired and our ponies scampered away across the level plain. I got the jump on the bunch but Jim's bay came up with a rush until his nose was even with my horse's shoulder. The ponies entered into the spirit of the occasion all right.
"Go it, Piute," yelled Jim.
Then he put his spurs into Piute's flank and with his own fierce energy he carried him ahead of me.
"Wow! Wow! Coyote!" I yelled, "catch him!"
Coyote certainly went after Piute for fair. Tom was at my heels. The scant prairie dust flew back from the scampering heels of our flying ponies.
It was fun! Wild fun for us and how we enjoyed the speed and the rivalry. I was determined that Coyote should win. The finish was only a hundred yards away.