_stop_ runnin'. Sometimes it was a good while before the feller
ridin' him could get him around to where he begun to run. He run in
curves natural, and he handed out a right curve or a left one, just as
he happened to feel, same as the feller dealin' faro, and just as easy.

"Tom Redmond, on the Bar T, he got this horse from a feller by the name
of Hasenberg, that brought in a bunch of has-beens and outlaws, and
allowed to distribute 'em in this country. Hasenberg was a foreign
gent that looked a good deal like Whiteman, our distinguished
feller-citizen here. He was cross-eyed hisself, body and soul. There
wasn't a straight thing about him. We allowed that maybe this Pinto
_caballo_ got cross-eyed from associatin' with old Hasenberg, who was
strictly on the bias, any way you figured."

"You ain't so bad, after all, Curly," said Dan Andersen, sitting up.
"You're beginning now to hit the human interest part. You ought to be
a reg'lar contributor."

"Shut up!" said Curly. "Now Tom Redmond, he took to this here Pinto
horse from havin' seen him jump the corral fence several times, and
start floatin' off across the country for a eight or ten mile sasshay
without no special encouragement. He hired three Castilian busters to
operate on Pinto, and he got so he could be rode occasional, but every
one allowed they never did see any horse just like him. He was the
most aggravatinest thing we ever did have on this range. He had a sort
of odd-lookin' white eye, but a heap of them _pintos_ has got glass
eyes, and so no one thought to examine his lookers very close, though
it was noticed early in the game that Pinto might be lookin' one way
and goin' the other, at the same time. He'd be goin' on a keen lope,
and then something or other might get on his mind, and he'd stop and
untangle hisself from all kinds of ridin'. Sometimes he'd jump and
snort like he was seein' ghosts. A feller on that horse could have
roped antelopes as easy as yearlin' calves, if he could just have told
which way Mr. Pinto was goin'; but he was a shore hard one to estermate.

"At last Tom, why, he suspected somethin' wasn't right with Pinto's
lamps. If you stuck out a bunch of hay at him, he couldn't bite it by
about five feet. When you led him down to water, you had to go
sideways; and if you wanted to get him in through the corral gate, you
had to push him in backward. We discovered right soon that he was born
with his parallax or something