n 
yn 
on 
moo MAMIZ A ZHEOK in: 
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! The saddle’s turn- 
ing! Whoa! Do you wa-ant to ke-all 
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 
