Scott had put some sugar in his pocket that morning for the purpose of opening up friendly relations with his new mount and he promptly produced a lump. The horse accepted it after an inquisitive sniff and the battle was over. He did not seem to be at all distressed by the terrific race he had run and nibbled a little willow bush apparently at perfect ease. He seemed perfectly reconciled to his new partnership.
The next thing was to get him home. He had been bridle broken in a way. That is, he had been led around a little, but he had never been driven and knew nothing of a rider’s management. He pricked up his ears and arched his neck when Scott gently gathered up the reins and spoke to him calmly, but he knew nothing of the “clucks” which usually urge a horse ahead, and Scott was afraid to slap him or nudge him with his heels. He pulled on one rein and succeeded in turning him toward home, but that was all.
Suddenly the great horse raised his beautiful head and with ears pricked forward gazed intently at the rim of the rise of ground ahead of him. His keen ears had caught the thud of pounding hoofs from the direction of the town. Scott could not hear them, but he guessed what had attracted the horse’s attention. He waited expectantly for he did not know what effect the approach of other horses would have on his high-strung mount.
A moment later a bunch of hard riding horsemen swept over the crest of the knoll. At the sight of Scott sitting calmly erect on his fingernail saddle they stopped in astonishment and then sent forth a mighty shout of admiration, the tribute of expert horsemen to the nerve of a man who had dared what few of them would have done. They realized perfectly the danger of rushing down on this newly tamed horse and rode slowly and quietly down the slope.
The cautious approach seemed to arouse the suspicion of the big black. He advanced a few steps toward them proudly. He was a leader and in no mind to be trapped as he had often seen those same riders trap less wary animals. With a defiant toss of his lordly head he broke into a graceful trot and circled swiftly to the left. Beyond the last rider he struck a swinging gallop and headed for town. The cowboys’ horses were pretty well blown with the long race and did not care to push the homeward pace. So the great stallion, none the worse for his wild dash for liberty, proudly and with many a backward glance, led the procession back down the main street of the town.