. It
pleased him--though he was inclined to mistake a great privilege for a
right that must not be denied. He commanded his Daddy Chip to open the
gate for him so he could ride Silver to the stable and put him in the
box stall; which was a superfluous kindness, as Chip tried to point out
and failed to make convincing.

The Kid wanted Silver in the box stall, where he could feed him and
water him his own self. So into the box stall Silver reluctantly went,
and spent a greater part of the day with his head stuck out through the
window, staring enviously at his mates in the pasture.

For several days Chip watched the Kid covertly whenever his small feet
strayed stableward; watched and was full of secret pride at the manner
in which the Kid rose to his new responsibility. Never did a "string"
receive the care which Silver got, and never did rider sit more proudly
upon his steed than did the Kid sit upon Silver. There seemed to be
practically no risk--Chip was amazed at the Kid's ability to ride.
Besides, Silver was growing old--fourteen years being considered ripe
old age in a horse. He was more given to taking life with a placid
optimism that did not startle easily. He carried the Kid's light weight
easily, and he had not lost all his springiness of muscle. The Little
Doctor rode him sometimes, and loved his smooth gallop and his even
temper; now she loved him more when she saw how careful he was of the
Kid. She besought the Kid to be careful of Silver also, and was most
manfully snubbed for her solicitude.

The Kid had owned Silver for a week, and considered that he was
qualified to give advice to the Happy Family, including his Daddy Chip,
concerning the proper care of horses. He stood with his hands upon his
hips and his feet far apart, and spat into the corral dust and told
Big Medicine that nobody but a pilgrim ever handled a horse the way
Big Medicine was handling Deuce. Whereat Big Medicine gave a bellowing
haw-haw-haw and choked it suddenly when he saw that the Kid desired him
to take the criticism seriously.

"All right, Buck," he acceded humbly, winking openly at the Native Son.
"I'll try m'best, old-timer. Trouble with me is, I never had nobody to
learn me how to handle a hoss."

"Well, you've got me, now," Buck returned calmly. "I don't ride MY
string without brushing the hay out of his tail. There's a big long
hay stuck in your horse's tail." He pointed an accusing finger, and Big
Medicine silently edged