I Said That He Had Been Made Cruelly Afraid Of A Saddle, And For A Long Time After We Had Bought Him, He Objected To It And To Being Mounted, And I Did Not Consider A Horse Broken That Would Do Those Things.

I said also, that the horse had not been gaited.

He interrupted with, "Why, he's a pacer" - just as though that settled everything; but I told him that Rollo had three perfectly trained grades of speed, each one of which I had taught him.

The young man's face became very red and he looked angry, but I had a beautiful time. It was such a relief to express my opinion to the man just at that time, too, when I was grieving so for the horse. I saw at once that he was a bronco breaker from his style of dress. He had on boots of very fine leather with enormously high heels, and strapped to them were large, sharp-pointed Mexican spurs. His trousers were of leather and very broad at the bottom, and all down the front and outside was some kind of gray fur - "chaps" this article of dress is called - and in one hand he held a closely plaited, stinging black "quirt." He wore a plaid shirt and cotton handkerchief around his neck. That describes the man who rode Rollo first - and no wonder the spirited, high-strung colt was suspicious of saddles, men, and things. I watched the man as he rode away.

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