72 Rod, Gun, and Palette in the High Rockies 



that at the artist's instance was promptly dubbed "the old 

 Roman," equally in allusion to the shape of his nose and his air 

 of senatorial dignity. 



"Think he can carry Art?" asked the artist of Fred. 



"You bet. By golly, he carries him all right. Maybe not 

 fast — he vas not built dot vay, but he carries him. It vas not 

 kind to ask him for more." 



"Saddle up, you two," directed William, "and go up the road 

 an hour and come back an hour. Jimmy needs hardening to the 

 saddle for the trip to Tepee, and you need training down." 



"But, look here, Fred, where's the bridle?" queried Jim, as, 

 ready to start, he observed that his beast had, in place of the 

 accustomed head furnishings, merely a hackamore. 



"You don'd need no bridle mit him. Vhen you wants him to 

 go to der left, you shoost slaps him on der neck mit der rope; und 

 vhen you wants him to go der other way, you pulls der rope, 

 not very hard, und he goes. Und if you wants him to get busy 

 und hump himselluf, you kick him in der ribs, und he goes." 



"Humph. He must be pretty well trained. Supposing he 

 bolts?" 



"Veil, I vas shoost telling you you don'd haf to fall far. If 

 you can't shtop him, you can get off qvick und easy. But you 

 don'd haf to be afraid of that. He vas well trained. Dot's why 

 I gets him for you. You vas not all there all der time" — here the 

 rest of the camp grinned out loud — "you vas looking at things 

 so hard, und thinking aboudt pictures all der time. Und dot 

 liddle horse, he knows his business You do vot you likes, und 

 leaf him alone, und he dakes care of you." 



That was conclusive. The artist mounted his equine custo- 

 dian, and took it for granted that things were all right. 



Fifteen minutes on the way, sufficient for the artist to in- 

 wardly congratulate himself upon the easy lope of his beast, and 

 the conveniently short distance from his back to the ground in 

 case of a spill, Art pulled up suddenly, and inquired, indicating 

 his own, "Don't you think this is a hard-gaited horse?" Before 

 the ride was half over, one at least of the two cavaliers had reason 

 to know the evil effects of suddenly and heavily working a set of 

 long-disused muscles, and his principal anxiety was that he 

 should not appear to his riding mate ever to have done anything 



