"Exactly that. You see?"
In fact, the moment Perris slipped from the saddle, Rickety rocked
forward on his forelegs and drove both heels at one of the reckless who
came too near. A second later he was fighting with the activity and
venom of a cat to get away from the ropes. The crowd chattered its
surprise. Plainly the fierce old outlaw had not fought his last.
"What _did_ Perris do to the horse?" murmured Marianne.
"I don't know," said Corson. "But you seem to have guessed something.
See the way he stands there with his chin on his fist and studies
Rickety! Maybe Perris is one of these here geniuses and us ordinary
folks can only understand a genius by using a book on him."
She nodded, very serious.
"There _is_ a use for fighting men, isn't there?" she brooded.
"Use for 'em?" laughed Corson. "Why, lady, how come we to be sitting
here? Because gents have fought to put us here! How come this is part of
God's country? Because a lot of folks buckled on guns to make it that!
Use for a fighter? Well, Miss Jordan, I've done a little fighting of one
kind and another in my day and I don't blush to think about it. Look at
my kid there. What do you think I'm proudest of: because he was head of
his class at school last winter or because he could lick every other boy
his own size? First time he come home with a black eye I gave him a
dollar to go back and try to give the other fellow _two_ black eyes.
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