d, "Poor thing--what can you
know about gaits"; but he answered civilly, "Well, lady, he is what we
call a square pacer," and having done his duty he turned again to his
friends, as though they only could understand him, and said, "No cow
swing about that horse. He is a light sorrel and has the very handsomest
mane yer ever did see--it waves, too, and I guess the lady curls it--but
don't know for sure."

The situation was most unusual and in some ways most embarrassing,
also. Those nine men were rough and unkempt, but they were splendid
horsemen--that I knew intuitively--and to have one of their number
select my very own horse above all others to speak of with unstinted
praise, was something to be proud of, but to have my own self calmly and
complacently disposed of with the horse--"put up," in fact--was quite
another thing. But not the slightest disrespect had been intended, and
to leave the table without making myself known was not to be thought of.
I wanted the pleasure, too, of telling those men that I knew the gait
of a pacer very well--that not in the least did I deserve their pity. My
face was burning and my voice unnatural when I threw the bomb!

I said, "The horse you are speaking of I know very well. He is mine, and
I ride him, and I thank you very much for the nice things you have
just said about him!" Well, there was a sudden change of scene at that
table--a dropping of knives and forks and various other things, and I
became conscious of eyes--thousands of eyes--staring straight at me, as
I watched my bronco friend at the end of the table. The man had
opened his eyes wide, and almost gasped "Gee-rew-s'lum!"--then utterly
collapsed. He sat back in his chair gazing at me in a helpless,
bewildered way that was disconcerting, so I told him a number of things
about Rollo--how Faye had taken him to Helena during race week and
Lafferty, a professional jockey of Bozeman, had tested his speed, and
had passed a 2:30 trotter with him one morning. The men knew Lafferty,
of course. There was a queer coincidence connected with him and Rollo.
The horse that he was driving at the races was a pacer named Rolla,
while my horse, also a pacer, was named Rollo.

All talk about horses ceased at once, and the men said very little to
each other during the remainder of the time we were at the table. It was
almost pathetic, and an attention I very much appreciated, to see how
bread, pickles, cold meat, and in fact everything else o