anything that was his. Then there was 

 a flapping noise below. We both 

 heard it, we both knew what it was — 

 the cinch worked loose, that meant the 

 saddle loose. 



In desperation I clutched the Great 

 Goer's mane with both hands and, lean- 

 ing forward, yelled wildly in his ears: 



" Whoa, whoa I The saddle's turn- 

 ing I Whoa ! Do you wa-ant to ki-ill 

 me?" 



Do not tell me that the horse is not a 

 noble, intelligent animal with a vast 

 comprehension of human talk and sym- 

 pathy for human woe. For the Great 

 Goer pulled up so suddenly that I 

 nearly went on without him in the line 

 of the least resistance. Then he stood 

 still and went to nibbling grass as pla- 

 cidly as though he had not been doing 

 racing time for three miles, and I 



