his companions, and he trotted along in contentment,
to all outward appearances. But it was
only an appearance of content. Within were
mixed emotions. While he felt pleasure at being
active again, while he was resigned in a way to
his hunger pangs, and he was glad that his friends,
the little gray and the young man, were still with
him, yet against all this was a sense of revolt at
the unnecessary tightness of the cinch, the hard
hand on the reins, and the frequent touch of spur
and heel and stirrup against his sides. Finally
the feeling which began at that initial torture
in bridling swelled with the consequent annoyances
into approaching revolt. He became ugly
and morose.

This soon revealed itself. He was crossing a
wide arroyo. Without counting costs, grimly
blind to the result, he burst out of the fox-trot
into a canter. He held to this a thrilling moment,
and then, finding himself keyed to greater
exertions, abandoned the canter and broke into a
sharp run. It was all done quickly, the changes
of stride lapping almost within his own length,
and his heart leaped and pounded with delight,
for the change somehow relieved him.

But it was a mistake. Quickly as it was done,
he found himself almost as quickly jerked up,
swung viciously around, and his sides raked with
ruthless spurs. He gasped a moment under
the smarting fire of the spurs, then, as in the
old days, reared in a towering rage. And this
was a mistake. Too late he found the man's

[[188]]

p187 _ -chap- _ toc-1 _ p188w _ toc-2 _ +chap+ _ p189

v?