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say Peg did that?" exclaimed Bob, astonished. "Well, not with his own hand. He wouldn't know how, you see; but he had a Mexican cowboy along with him who is up to all these tricks--Spanish Joe. When we were busy in that store, he crept up and fixed this thorn under your saddle. Of course, as soon as you sprang into your seat, your weight just drove one of these tough little points in deeper. And, as the horse jumped, every movement was so much more torture. Get onto it, Bob?" "Sure I do; and I guessed all that while riding back. But tell me, why did he pick out _my_ horse, instead of your Buckskin?" asked the Kentucky boy. "Look back a little. Who was it gave Peg his little tumble when he was striking that child? Why, of course it was nobody but Bob Archer. I saw Peg standing on the porch of the tavern as I galloped after you; and give you my word, Bob, he had a grin on his face that looked as if it would never come off. Peg was happy--why? Because he had just seen you being carried like the wind out of town on a bolting nag. And I guess he wouldn't care very much if you got thrown, with some of your ribs broken in the bargain." Bob proceeded to tell how he had figured on what caused the queer antics of his horse, and then what his method for relieving the pressure had been. "Just what you should have done!" exclaimed Frank, enthusiastically. "Say, you're getting on to all the little wrinkles pretty fast. And it worked too, did it?" "Thanks to the smartness of Domino, it did," replied Bob, proudly. "Some other horses might have broken away as soon as their rider dismounted; but he's mighty near human, Frank, I tell you. He just stood there, quivering with excitement, and pain, till I got the thing off. But do you know what kind of thorn this is?" "I know it as well as you would a persimmon growing on a tree in Old Kentucky; or a pawpaw in the thicket. It's rank poison, too, and will breed trouble if the wound isn't taken care of in time. "That's bad news, old fellow. I'd sure hate to lose my horse," remarked Bob, dejectedly, as he threw an arm lovingly over the neck of the black. "Oh! I don't think it'll be as bad as that; especially since I happen to have along with me in my pack some ointment old Hank Coombs gave me at a time I fell down on one of the same kind of stickers, and got it in my arm," and Frank opened the smaller of the two packs he had fastened behind his saddle.
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