WHITEY LEARNS TO RIDE
"Look here, Whitey," said Bill Jordan, one afternoon, "kin yo' ride a
hoss? If yo' an' this here Injun is goin' in cahoots, yo' gotta ride
some!"
"I'm not what any one would call a good rider," said Whitey, "but I
guess I can manage to stay on. I used to ride the horses down at Coney
Island, and once or twice when we were in the country; but these horses
are different. They don't wait till you get your seat before they whirl
'round and beat it!"
"Some of 'em is a mite hasty," admitted Bill, "but we got one or two
nice, ol' hobby-hosses in the corral thet'll be 'bout yo'r size. Buck,"
he shouted to one of the cow-punchers nearby, "go bring thet ol' sorrel
out'n the corral--thet is, pervidin' he's able to walk. Yo'll probably
find him leanin' up agin the fence to keep from fallin' down. This here
Whitey person is goin' to set on him fer a spell an' take a nap."
Buck took a halter and went into the corral, and soon returned leading
the sorrel, which did not seem to be in any danger of falling down
if he didn't have something to lean against. In fact, the sorrel was
a pretty lively animal, and Whitey had his misgivings; but he knew
that Bill Jordan would not allow him to mount a fractious or vicious
horse, inexperienced as he was, and he made up his mind that he would
"go through" with it. If he were to spend any length of time in the
West, he knew that the sooner he learned to ride, the better off he
would be, and the more he could enter into the work and play of the
ranch--and, indeed, the very life of the West with which the horse is
so inseparably associated. Then, too, he admired and marveled at the
way Injun rode his pony, and the spirit of rivalry within him made him
determine that he would not remain outclassed, for any long time, by a
boy of his own age in any department of out-door life.
Bill watched Whitey narrowly, and it is probable that if he had seen
any exhibition of "the white feather," he would have stopped the
performance. For he knew that confidence is the main thing, and if the
boy were timid, he might come to grief. But Whitey evidently did not
have "cold feet."
"Buck, you keep the ol' rack-o'-bones from fallin' apart, an' I'll give
the kid a hand," said Bill, offering to boost Whitey into the saddle.
"Let me try to mount myself," said Whitey. "I may be out on the prairie
some time and it won't be convenient to come way back here to get you
to boost me up."
"Correct," said Bill, tickled over the boy's refusal of his assistance.
"It's always well to play a lone hand--ef yo' got the cards to do it!"
And Whitey swung himself onto the horse in as near an imitation of the
way of the ranchmen as he could.
Once he was mounted on the sorrel, after some elementary instructions
from Bill as to mounting and keeping his seat by the knee-grip, Buck,
who had stood at the horse's head, released his hold, and the sorrel
started off at a lively clip; and if Whitey had not remembered his
instructions and been prepared for just this thing, he would have been
unseated. As it was, he had a narrow escape, but managed to stick
on, to the great delight of Bill--and, incidentally, of himself!
Every added minute on the horse gave added confidence to Whitey, and
as he began to get the swing and rhythm of it, he already felt that
exhilaration which comes from riding. Injun, of course, accompanied
him, and the two boys rode around the big corral to which his first
essay was confined.
Bill Jordan watched Whitey with considerable satisfaction; he had
taken a great interest in the boy because he recognized in him many
of the sterling qualities that go to make a man. He had not selected
a "rocking-horse" for his first ride largely to see if Whitey would
tackle what seemed to be a difficult undertaking without fear; and the
manner in which the boy had "gone to it" pleased him immensely. He
knew that there was really very little actual danger, for the sorrel
was steady and "honest" and had no vicious traits, and there is such a
thing as too much "babying."
Whitey was strong and confident, and there are worse things than a
fall from a horse. Jordan knew, also, that if a rider starts on an
"easy-chair" sort of a horse, he will learn many things which he must
eventually un-learn. At any rate, the proof of the pudding is in
the eating, and the manner in which Whitey performed justified his
judgment. It would not do, of course, to start _every_ boy in this way;
but Whitey was an unusual boy, and Bill felt that he took very few
chances.
In the next few days Whitey picked up a surprising lot of horsemanship
and though he had a fall or two, when he attempted to do some of the
"fancy stuff" that Injun and the cow-punchers showed him, he had no
broken bones, and he felt that he was competent to ride almost anywhere
and keep up the pace. Confidence, after all, is the main thing, and
this Whitey had in large measure. And, what counts for much also, _he
was willing to be shown_. He did not "_know it all_." Any boy who
starts in a new game and thinks he knows it all will certainly come to
grief.
The taking over of a new property like the big Bar O ranch and getting
the run of things is no small job; and Mr. Sherwood was kept too busy
to pay more than casual attention to Whitey. Thus the two boys were
left almost entirely to themselves, although Bill Jordan kept an eye on
them, as did many of the ranch-hands with whom they were favorites.