The Pacing Mustang 



It was incredible, and Jo put on more spur 

 and shouted to his horse, which fairly flew, but 

 shortened up the space between by not a single 

 inch. For the Black One whirled across the 

 flat and up and passed a soapweed mesa and 

 down across a sandy treacherous plain, then 

 over a grassy stretch where prairie dogs barked, 

 then hid below, and on came Jo, but there to 

 see, could he believe his eyes, the Stallion's 

 start grown longer still, and Jo began to curse 

 his luck, and urge and spur his horse until the 

 poor uncertain brute got into such a state of 

 nervous fright, her eyes began to roll, she 

 wildly shook her head from side to side, no 

 longer picked her ground — a badger-hole re- 

 ceived her foot and down she went, and Jo went 

 flying to the earth. Though badly bruised, he 

 gained his feet and tried to mount his crazy 

 beast. But she, poor brute, was done for — her 

 off fore-leg hung loose. 



There was but one thing to do. Jo loosed 

 the cinch, put Lightfoot out of pain, and car- 

 ried back the saddle to the camp. While the 

 Pacer steamed away till lost to view. 



This was not quite defeat, for all the mares 



248 



