Bat an' her'll be waitin' for us at Snake Creek crossin'."
"Who is Bat?"
"He's a breed."
"A what?"
"Wait an' see!" growled Tex. "Come on; we can't set here 'til you get
educated. You'd ought to went to school when you was young."
Endicott reached for a stirrup and the horse leaped sidewise with a
snort of fear. Again and again the man tried to insert a foot into the
broad wooden stirrup, but always the horse jerked away. Round and
round in a circle they went, while the Texan sat in his saddle and
rolled a cigarette.
"Might try the other one," he drawled, as he struck a match. "Don't
you know no better than to try to climb onto a horse on the right-hand
side? You must of be'n brought up on G-Dots."
"What's a G-Dot?"
"There you go again. Do I look like a school-marm? A G-Dot is an
Injun horse an' you can get on 'em from both sides or endways. Come
on; Snake Creek crossin' is a good fifteen miles from here, an' we
better pull out of this coulee while the moon holds."
Endicott managed to mount, and gathering up the reins urged his horse
forward. But the animal refused to go and despite the man's utmost
efforts, backed farther and farther into the brush.
"Just shove on them bridle reins a little," observed the Texan dryly.
"I think he's swallerin' the bit.
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