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Brand, Max, 1892-1944

"Alcatraz"

Speaking personal, I'd
like to take off the rope and go at you man to man with no saddle to
help me out. But if I did that I wouldn't have a ghost of a show. I'll
saddle you, right enough, but I'll ride you without spurs, and I'll
put a straight bit in your mouth--damn the Mexican soul of Cordova, I
see where he's sawed your mouth pretty near in two with his Spanish
contraptions! Without a quirt or spurs or a curb to choke you down,
you and me'll put on a square fight, so help me God! Because I think I
can beat you, old hoss. Here goes!"
The stallion listened to the soothing murmur, listened and waited, and
sure enough he had not long to stay in expectation. For Perris went
to the hole behind the rock and presently returned carrying that
flapping, creaking instrument of torture--a saddle.
To all that followed--the blind-folding, the bridling, the jerk which
urged him to his feet, the saddling,--Alcatraz submitted with the most
perfect docility. He understood now that he was to have a chance to
fight for his liberty on terms of equality and his confidence grew. In
the old days that consummate horseman, Manuel Cordova, had only
been able to keep his seat by underfeeding Alcatraz to the point of
exhaustion but now, from withers to fetlock joint, the chestnut was
conscious of a mighty harmony of muscles and reserves of energy.


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