CHAPTER I_Smoky, the cow horse

SMOKY

The Cow Horse

Will James

Buccaneer Books

Cutchogue, New York

Auguste Dufault

International Standard Book Number: 1-56849-236-7

For ordering information, contact:

Buccaneer Books, Inc.

P. O. Box 168

Cutchogue, New York 11935

(516) 734-5724, Fax (516) 734-7920

PREFACE

To my way of thinking there's something wrong, or missing, with any

person who hasn't got a soft spot in their heart for an animal of

some kind. With most folks the dog stands highest as man's friend,

then comes the horse, with others the cat is liked best as a pet, or

a monkey is fussed over; but whatever kind of animal it is a person

likes, it's all hunkydory so long as there's a place in the heart for

one or a few of them.

I've never as yet went wrong in sizing up a man by the kind of a

horse he rode. A good horse always packs a good man, and I've always

dodged the hombre what had no thought nor liking for his horse or

other animals, for I figger that kind of gazabo is best to be left

unacquainted with, no good would ever come of the meeting.

With me, my weakness lays towards the horse. My life, from the time

I first squinted at daylight has been with horses. I admire every

step that crethure makes, I know them and been thru so much with 'em

that I've come to figger a big mistake was made when the horse was

classed as an animal. To me, the horse is man's greatest, most useful,

faithful, and powerful friend. He never whines when he's hungry or sore

footed or tired, and he'll keep on a going for the human till he drops.

The horse is not appreciated and never will be appreciated enough,--few

humans, even them that works him, really know him, but then there's

so much to know about him. I've wrote this book on only one horse

and when I first started it I was afraid I'd run out of something to

write, but I wasn't half thru when I begin to realize I had to do some

squeezing to get the things in I wanted, and when I come to the last

chapter was when I seen how if I spent my life writing on the horse

alone and lived to be a hundred I'd only said maybe half of what I feel

ought to be said.

The horse I wrote of in this book is not an exception, there's quite a

few like him, he's not a fiction horse that's wrote about in a dream

and made to do things that's against the nature of a horse to do. Smoky

is just a horse, but all horse, and that I think is enough said.

As for Clint, the cowboy who "started" Smoky, he's no exception either.

He's just a man who was able to see and bring out the good that was

in the horse--and no matter how some writers describe the cowboy's

handling of horses, I'm here to say that I can produce many a cowboy

what can show feelings for a horse the same as Clint done.

But Smoky met other humans besides Clint, many others, and of all

kinds, and that's where the story comes in. And now, my main ambition

as I turn Smoky loose to making hisself acquainted is that the folks

who will get to know him will see that horse as _I_ seen him.

WILL JAMES III

CONTENTS

I. A RANGE COLT

II. SMOKY MEETS THE HUMAN

III. WHERE THE TRAILS FORK

IV. THE END OF A ROPE

V. THE BRONC TWISTER STEPS UP

VI. "THE SQUEAK OF LEATHER"

VII. SMOKY SHOWS HIS FEELINGS

VII. SMOKY STARTS OUT

IX. FIGHTS FOR RIGHTS

X. "AMONGST THE MISSING"

XI. "THE FEEL OF A STRANGE HAND"

XII. "WHEN THE GOOD LEAVES"

XIII. "A MANY-MEN HORSE"

XIV. "DARK CLOUDS, THEN TALL GRASS"

ILLUSTRATIONS

His ears begin to work back and forth towards the sound his mammy would

make as she moved

His long legs tangled and untangled themselves as he run, and he was

sure making speed

His mammy shot up the hill, took in the goings-on at a glance, and ears

back, teeth a shining, tore up the earth and lit into the cayote like a

ton of dynamite

Smoky had 'em all buffaloed

And as his mammy went to join the bunch, he followed and the big

buckskin brought up the rear

The lion had figgered on his victim a jumping to one side at his leap,

and he'd allowed for that

He got strong headed and full of mischief, and then's when the older

horses figgered him to be a regular pest

There's bowed necks as the three touch nostrils

Smoky done a side swipe that was quicker than chained lightning

The cowboy still hanging onto the rope that held his head, came on,

saddle and all with him, and quivering with fear the little horse layed

low, feet straight out in front and head near to the ground he stayed

there

He didn't forget how he was stopped, and so sudden, that first time

he'd tried to break with an empty saddle

A hand touched him on the forehead

And when a glance back showed Smoky the rider was still there, he got

desperate again and begin to see red

Smoky wondered what a rope was doing up there

The bush came out and headed straight for Smoky

He liked to chase the wild-eyed cow, turn her when she didn't want to

be turned, and put her where she didn't want to be put

Smoky's eyes was on Jeff with a steady warning in 'em for him to keep

his distance--and Jeff did

Smoky stuck his head and neck out far as he could and nickered at the

sight of the cowboy

Clint was about to get on his horse and ride away, but he stopped, and

felt of Smoky's hide once more

Feed was aplenty and the little pawing that had to be done to reach it

was like so much exercise and only kept his blood in good circulating

order

The black was jerked off his feet, rolled plum over, and he lit head

first on the other side

Smoky and Pecos' hides begin a itching and the two was often busy

scratching one another

Slow and easy Clint raised a hand and held it to within a few inches of

his nose

Old Tom didn't even get well set that time, Smoky bowed his head and

went out from under him leaving him come down on the other side

Many a cowboy had remarked it was worth the price of a good show to

watch Smoky outdodge the critter

The next day Clint was busy bringing the weak stock closer to the ranch

Heavy drifts was lunged into and hit on a high run as they tried to

leave the rider behind

And even tho cattle is what the round up wagons was out for, there was

more eyes out for Smoky

Clint'd keep on comparing whatever horse he'd be riding with Smoky,

and find that pony (no matter how good he was) a mighty poor excuse as

compared with the mouse colored horse that was missing

A rope had settled around his neck once, he'd fought till it

broke,--and run on a dragging it

And while the breed was getting as much of the saddle under him as he

could, the cowboy took off the foot ropes

Smoky's interest was all for shedding the saddle right then and all

that carried the breed's smell

That pony had been harder to get near than any of the wild ones he was

with

The breed would often watch him thru the corral poles and wonder

The horse had been found out on the desert, amongst a bunch of wild

horses and packing an empty saddle

In front of the crowded grandstand is where his fame as a man-hating,

bucking outlaw begin to spread

The chute gate would fly open, and out would come a tearing, bellering

hunk of steel coils to land out a ways, and like a ton of lava from

above, jar the earth even up to the grandstand

The Cougar reared up while the rider was still in the air, then turned,

and with his ears back, teeth a flashing, hoofs a striking with

lightning speed, went to carry out his heart's craving

About that time the mouse colored outlaw peeked thru the bars of the

chute at him and snorted

He wasn't caring right then if it was said that he didn't ride the

horse to the finish

The long horned "Sonora reds" begin to spread all over the range

countries of the U. S. plum up to the Canadian line

No remuda got by that Clint didn't ride thru

As he stepped out to get a bucket of water the morning sun throwed a

shadow on the door

SMOKY

CHAPTER I

A RANGE COLT

It seemed like Mother Nature was sure agreeable that day when the

little black colt came to the range world and tried to get a footing

with his long wobblety legs on the brown prairie sod. Short stems of

new green grass was trying to make their way up thru the last year's

faded growth and reaching for the sun's warm rays. Taking in all that

could be seen, felt, and inhaled, there was no day, time, nor place

that could beat that spring morning on the sunny side of the low

prairie butte where Smoky the colt was foaled.

"Smoky" wouldn't have fitted the colt as a name just then on account

he was jet black, but that name wasn't attached onto him till he was a

four-year-old, which was when he first started being useful as a saddle

horse. He didn't see the first light of day thru no box stall window,

and there was no human around to make a fuss over him and try to steady

him on his feet for them first few steps. Smoky was just a little range

colt and all the company he had that first morning of his life was his

watchful mammy.

Smoky wasn't quite an hour old when he begin to take interest in

things, the warm spring sun was doing its work and kept a pouring

warmth all over that slick little black hide and right on thru his

little body till pretty soon his head come up kinda shaky and he begin

nosing around them long front legs that was stretched out in front of

him. His mammy was close by him and at the first move the colt made she

run her nose along his short neck and nickered. Smoky's head went up

another two inches at the sound and his first little answering nicker

was heard, of course a person would of had to listen mighty close to

hear it, but then if you'd a watched his nostrils quivering you could

tell that's just what he was trying to do.

That was the starting of Smoky. Pretty soon his ears begin to work

back and forth towards the sound his mammy would make as she moved. He

was trying to locate just where she was. Then something moved right

in front of his nose about a foot; it'd been there quite a good spell

but he'd never realized it before; besides his vision was a little dim

yet and he wasn't interested much till that something moved again and

planted itself still closer.

[Illustration: His ears begin to work back and forth towards the sound

his mammy would make as she moved. His vision was dim yet, and he was

trying to locate just where she was.]

Being it was right close he took a sniff at it. That sniff recorded

itself into his brain and as much as told him that all was well, it

was one of his mammy's legs. His ears perked up and he tried nickering

again with a heap better result than the first time.

One good thing called for another and natural like he made a sudden

scramble to get up, but his legs wouldn't work right and just about

when he'd got his belly clear of the ground and as he was resting

there for another try at the rest of the way up, one of his front legs

quivered and buckled at the elbow, and the whole works went down.

He layed there flat on his side and breathing hard, his mammy nickered

encouragement, and it wasn't long when his head was up again and his

legs spraddled out all around him the same as before. He was going to

try again, but next time he was going to be more sure of his _ground_.

He was studying, it seemed like, and sniffing of his legs and then the

earth like he was trying to figger out how he was going to get one to

stand up on the other. His mammy kept a circling around and a talking

to him in horse language; she'd give him a shove with her nose then

walk away and watch him.

The spring air which I think is most for the benefit of all that's

young had a lot to do to keep Smoky from laying still for very long,

his vision was getting clearer fast, and his strength was coming in

just as fast. Not far away, but still too far for Smoky to see was

little calves, little white-faced fellers a playing and bucking around

and letting out wall-eyed bellers at their mammies, running out a ways

and then running back, tails up, at a speed that'd make a greyhound

blush for shame.

There was other little colts too all a cavorting around and tearing up

good sod, but with all them calves and colts that was with the bunches

of cattle or horses scattered out on the range the same experience of

helplessness that Smoky was going thru had been theirs for a spell, and

a few hadn't been as lucky as Smoky in their first squint at daylight.

Them few had come to the range world when the ground was still covered

with snow, or else cold spring rains was a pouring down to wet 'em to

the bone.

Smoky's mother had sneaked out of the bunch a few days before Smoky

came and hid in a lonely spot where she'd be sure that no cattle nor

horses or even riders would be around. In a few days and when Smoky

would be strong enough to lope out she'd go back again, but in the

meantime she wanted to be alone with her colt and put all her attention

on him without having to contend with chasing off big inquisitive

geldings or jealous fillies.

She was of range blood which means mostly mustang with strains of

Steeldust or Coach throwed in; if hard winters come and the range was

covered with heavy snows she knowed of high ridges where the strong

winds kept a few spots bare and where feed could be got. If droughts

came to dry up the grass and water holes, she sniffed the air for

moisture and drifted out acrost the plain which was her home range to

the high mountains where things was more normal. There was cougars

and wolves in that high country but her mustang instinct made her the

"fittest." She circled around and never went under where the lion was

perched a waiting for her, and the wolf never found her where she could

be cornered.

Smoky had inherited that same instinct of his mammy's, but on that

quiet spring morning he wasn't at all worried about enemies, his mammy

was there, and besides he had a hard job ahead that was taking all of

his mind to figger out, that was to stand on them long things which was

fastened to his body and which kept a spraddling out in all directions.

The first thing to do was to gather 'em under him and try again, he did

that easy enough, and then he waited and gathered up all the strength

that was in him, he sniffed at the ground to make sure it was there and

then his head went up, his front feet stretched out in front of him,

and with his hind legs all under him he used all that strength he'd

been storing up and pushed himself up on his front feet, his hind legs

straightened up to steady him and as luck would have it there was just

enough distance between each leg to keep him up there. All he had to

do was to keep them legs stiff and from buckling up under him, which

wasn't at all easy, cause getting up to where he was had used up a lot

of his strength and them long legs of his was doing a heap of shaking.

All would of been well maybe, only his mammy nickered "that's a good

boy," and that's what queered Smoky. His head went up proud as a

peacock and he forgot all about keeping his props stiff and under him.

Down he went the whole length of his legs, and there he layed the same

as before.

But he didn't lay long this time. He either liked the sport of going up

and coming down or else he was getting peeved, he was up again, mighty

shaky, but he was up sure enough. His mammy came to him, she sniffed at

him and he sniffed back, then nature played another hand and he nursed,

the first nourishment was took in, his tummy warmed up and strength

came fast. Smoky was an hour and a half old and up to Stay.

The rest of that day was full of events for Smoky, he explored the

whole country, went up big mountains two feet high, wide valleys six

or eight feet acrost and at one time was as far as twelve feet away

from his mammy all by himself. He shied at a rock once, it was a

dangerous _looking_ rock, and he kicked at it as he went past. All that

action being put on at once come pretty near being too much for him

and he come close to measuring his whole length on Mother Earth once

again. But luck was with him, and taking it all he had a mighty good

time; when the sun went to sinking over the blue ridges in the West,

Smoky, he missed all the beauty of the first sunset in his life, he

was stretched out full length, of his own accord this time, and sound

asleep.

The night was a mighty good rival of what the day had been, all the

stars was out and showing off, and the braves was a chasing the buffalo

plum around the Big Dipper, the water hole of The Happy Hunting

Grounds, but all that was lost to Smoky, he was still asleep and

recuperating from his first day's adventures, and most likely he'd kept

on sleeping for a good long spell, only his mammy who was standing

guard over him happened to get a little too close and stepped on his

tail.

Smoky must of been in the middle of some bad dream, his natural

instinct might of pictured some enemy to his mind, and something that

looked like a wolf or a bear must of had him cornered for sure. Anyway,

when he felt his tail pinched that way he figgered that when a feller

begins to _feel_ it's sure time to act, and he did. He shot up right

under his mammy's chin, let out a squeal, and stood there ready to

fight. He took in the country for _feet_ and _feet_ around and looking

for the enemy that'd nipped him and finally in his scouting around

that way he run acrost the shadow of his mammy,--that meant but one

thing, safety, and that accounted for and put away as past left room

for a craving he'd never noticed in his excitement. He was hungry, and

proceeded right then and there to take on a feed of his mammy's warm,

rich milk.

The sky was beginning to get light in the East, the stars was fading

away and the buffalo hunters had went to rest, a few hours had passed

since Smoky had been woke up out of his bad dream and there he was,

asleep again. He'd missed his first sunset and now he was sleeping

thru his first sunrise, but he was going to be prepared for that new

day's run, and the strength he was accumulating through them sleeps and

between feeds would sure make him fit to cover a lot of territory.

There wasn't a move out of him till the sun was well up and beginning

to throw a good heat. He stacked up on a lot of that heat, and pretty

soon one of his ears moved, then the other. He took a long breath and

stretched. Smoky was coming to life.--His mammy nickered, and that done

the trick, Smoky raised his head, looked around, and proceeded to get

up. After a little time that was done and bowing his neck he stretched

again. Smoky was ready for another day.

The big day started right after Smoky had his feed, then his mother

went to grazing and moving away straight to the direction of some trees

a mile or so to the south. A clear spring was by them trees, and water

is what Smoky's mammy wanted the most right then. She was craving for

a drink of that cold water, but you'd never thought it by the way she

traveled. She'd nose around at the grass and wait for spells so as

little Smoky could keep up with her and still find time to investigate

everything what throwed a shadow.

A baby cottontail had jumped up once right under his nose, stood there

a second too scared to move, and pretty soon made a high dive between

the colt's long legs and hit for his hole; Smoky never seen the rabbit

or even knowed he was there or he might of been running yet, cause

that's what he'd been looking for, an excuse to run. But he finally

made up an excuse and a while later as he brushed past a long dry weed

and it tickled his belly, he let out a squeal and went from there.

His long legs tangled and untangled themselves as he run, and he was

sure making speed. Around and around he went and finally lined out

straight away from where his mammy was headed. She nickered for him

and waited, all patience. He turned after a spell and headed for his

mammy again the same as tho he'd run acrost another enemy at the other

end and as he got close to his mammy he let out a buck, a squeal, a

snort, and stopped,--he was sure some little wild horse.

[Illustration: His long legs tangled and untangled themselves as he

run, and he was sure making speed.]

It took a couple of hours for them two to make that mile to the spring.

The mother drank a lot of that good water, a few long breaths and drank

some more till the thirst was all gone. Smoky came over and nosed at

the pool, but he didn't take on any of the fluid, it looked just like

so much thin air to him, the same with the tender green grass that was

beginning to grow in bunches everywhere; it was just growing for him to

run on.

The rest of that day was pretty well used up around that one spot;

adventures of all kinds was numerous for Smoky, and when he wasn't

stretched out and asleep there was plenty of big stumps in the

cottonwood grove that could be depended on to give him the scare he'd

be looking for.

But there was other things and more threatening than stumps which

Smoky hadn't as yet spotted, like for instance,--a big cayote had

squatted and been watching him thru dead willow branches. He wasn't at

all interested in the action Smoky was putting into his play and only

wished the colt's mammy would move away a little further when he would

then take a chance and try to get him down,--colt meat was his favorite

dish and he sure wasn't going to let no chance slip by even if it took

a whole day's waiting for one to show itself.

A couple of chances had come his way but they was queered by Smoky's

mammy being too close, and he knowed better than show himself and get

run down by them hoofs of hers. Finally, and when he seen his appetite

wouldn't win anything by sticking around that spot any longer, he took

a last sniff and came out of his hiding place. Keeping the willows

between him and the horses he loped out till he was at a safe running

distance and where he could see all around him and there he squatted

again, in plain sight this time. He hadn't quite made up his mind as

yet whether to go or stick around a while longer.--Just about then

Smoky spots him.

To him, the cayote was just another stump, but more interesting than

the others he'd kicked at on account that this stump moved, and that

promised a lot of excitement. With a bowed neck and kinked tail Smoky

trotted up towards the cayote. The cayote just set there and waited and

when the colt got to within a few feet from him, he started away and

just fast enough so as the colt's curiosity would make him follow. If

he could only get the colt over the ridge and out of his mammy's sight.

It all was only a lot of fun to Smoky, and besides he was bound to find

out what was that grey and yellow object that could move and run and

didn't at all look like his mammy. His instinct was warning him steady

as he went, but curiosity had the best of him, and it wasn't till he

was over the hill before his instinct got above his curiosity and he

seen that all wasn't well.

The cayote had turned and quicker than a flash made a jump for Smoky's

throat.--The generations of mustang blood that'd fought the lobo and

cougar and which was the same blood that flowed in Smoky's veins is

all that saved the colt. That inherited instinct made him do the right

thing at the right time, he whirled quicker than lightning and let

fly with both hind feet with the result that the cayote's teeth just

pinched the skin under his jaws. But even at that, he wasn't going to

get rid of his enemy (it was a sure enough enemy this time) that easy,

and as he kicked he felt the weight of the cayote, and then a sharp

pain on his ham strings.

Smoky was scared, and he let out a squeal that sure made every living

thing in that neighborhood set up and wonder, it was a plain and loud

distress signal, and it was answered. His mammy shot up the hill, took

in the goings-on at a glance, and ears back, teeth a shining, tore up

the earth and lit into the battle like a ton of dynamite.

[Illustration: His mammy shot up the hill, took in the goings-on at a

glance, and ears back, teeth a shining, tore up the earth and lit into

the cayote like a ton of dynamite.]

The battle was over in a second, and with hunks of yellow fur a flying

all directions it wound up in a chase. The cayote was in the lead and

he stayed in the lead till a second hill took him out of sight.

Smoky was glad to follow his mammy back to the spring and on to the

other side a ways. He didn't shy at the stumps he passed on the way,

and the twig that tickled his tummy didn't bring no play, he was hungry

and tired, and when the first was tended to and his appetite called for

no more he lost no time to picking out a place to rest his weary bones.

A thin stream of blood was drying on one of his hind legs, but there

was no pain, and when the sun set and the shadow of his mammy spread

out over him he was sound asleep, and maybe dreaming of stumps, of

stumps that moved.

When the sun came up the next morning, Smoky was up too, and eyes half

closed was standing still as the big boulder next to him and sunned

himself. A stiff hind leg was a reminder of what happened the day

before, but the experience was forgotten far as dampening his spirits

was concerned, even the stiffness wouldn't hold him back from whatever

the new day would hold. He'd always remember the cayote, and from then

on never mistake him for a stump, but that sure wasn't going to take

any play out of him.

He was two days old now and strength had piled up fast, he felt there

was no trail too long for him and when the sun was a couple of hours

high that morning and his mother showed indications that she wanted to

drift he sure wasn't dragging along behind. The stiffness gradually

went out of his hind leg as he traveled, and by the afternoon of that

day he was again shying at everything and sometimes even shying at

nothing at all.

They kept a traveling and traveling, and it seemed like to Smoky that

the trail was getting pretty long after all. They skirted the flat

along the foot of the mountains, crossed one high ridge, and many

creeks, and still his mother was drifting on. She wouldn't hardly even

stop for him to nurse, and Smoky was getting cranky, and tired.

The pace kept up till the sun was well on its way down, when it

slackened some and finally the mother went to grazing. A short while

later Smoky was layed out full length and dead to the world.

Smoky didn't know and didn't care much just then, but his mammy was

headed back to her home range, where there was lots of horses and other

little colts for him to play with, and when late that night she lined

out again traveling steady he wasn't in any too good a humor.

Finally it seemed like they'd got there, for his mammy after watering

at a creek went to grazing at the edge of some big cottonwoods, she

showed no indications of wanting to go any further. Right there Smoky

was willing to take advantage of the chance and recuperate for all

he was worth, the sun came up, but Smoky was in the shade of the

cottonwoods what was beginning to leaf out. He slept on and a twitching

ear once in long spells is all that showed he was still alive.

That day never seen much of him, once in a while he'd get up and nurse

but right away after he'd disappear again and stretch out flat on the

warm earth.

He kept that up till way in the middle of the next night, and it was

well towards morning before he felt like he was all horse again.

He come out of it in fine shape though, and he was stronger than ever.

His vision was taking more territory too, and he was getting so he

could see near half as far as his mammy could. She was the first to

see the bunch of range horses trailing in to water early that morning,

Smoky heard her nicker as she recognized the bunch and it drawed a heap

of interest as to what she was nickering about, for he was right there

alongside of her and he couldn't see nothing for her to nicker at, but

pretty soon he could hear the horses as they trailed towards him, his

ears straightened towards the sound and a while later he could make

out the shapes of 'em. Smoky just kind of quivered at the sight of so

many that looked like his mammy. He was all interested, but at the same

time and even tho his instinct told him that all was well he had no

hankering to leave his mammy's side till he knowed for sure just what

was up.

The mother watched the bunch coming closer with ears pointed straight

ahead, but soon as some of the leaders discovered little Smoky there

was a commotion and they all begin crowding in to get a look at and

greet the newcomer, about which time the mother layed her ears back. It

was a warning that none of 'em come too close.

Little Smoky's knees was a shaking under him at the sight of so many

of his kind, he leaned against his mammy half afraid, but his head was

up far as he could get it and facing 'em and showed by the shine in his

eyes that he liked the whole proceeding mighty well at that. He rubbed

nostrils with a strange gelding which was braver than the rest and

dared come close, and when that gelding was nipped at by his mammy he

had a mighty strong hankering to help her along just for fun, and nip

him himself.

The preliminary introduction took a good hour, and the mother stood

guard; not for fear that any of 'em would harm Smoky, but she wanted

it understood from the start that he was her little colt and she had

the say over him. It finally _was_ understood, but it took all that day

and part of the next for the bunch to get used in having the new little

feller around and quit making a fuss over him.

They was all jealous of one another and fought amongst themselves to be

the only one near him, and his mother, of course she'd declared herself

from the start, and it was took for granted from all around that her

place in Smoky's heart couldn't be considered, and all knowed better

than try and chase her away from him. Fillies and old mares, young

geldings and old ponies and all, had it out as to which was the most

fit to tag along and play with Smoky and keep a watchful eye over him

along with his mammy. All wanted the job, but a big buckskin saddle

horse who all the time had been the boss of the herd took it to hand

to show them that _he_ would be the all around guardeen for Smoky, and

second only to his mammy. He delivered a few swift kicks, pounded

on some ribs, left teeth marks on shiny hides, and after taking one

last look and making sure that all was persuaded grazed out towards

Smoky who by his mammy had watched the whole proceeding with a heap of

interest.

There was three other little colts in the bunch besides Smoky, and each

time one of them little fellers came the buckskin horse had to whip the

bunch so as he'd have the say over the newest one. Now Smoky was the

newest one, and the buckskin horse had first rights as an outsider once

again. He was an old horse full of scars showing where he'd had many

a scrap, there was saddle marks on his back and at one time had been

a mighty fine cowhorse. Now he was pensioned, he'd more than earned a

rest and all he had to do for the rest of his life was to pick out good

feed grounds for the winter, shady places and tenderest green grass for

the summer, and his other interest in life was them little colts that

came in spring time.

Smoky's mother was young, at least ten years younger than the buckskin

horse, but the buckskin was like a colt compared to her when it come to

be playful. She had the responsibility of Smoky and while she let him

play with her, kick or bite at her, she never played with him and once

in a while if he'd get too rough she'd let him know about it. She loved

little Smoky with all her heart and would of died for him any time, and

her main interest was to see that she kept in condition so that Smoky

would never be stunted by lacking of rich milk. She had no time for

play.

And that's where the old buckskin came in. Him and Smoky was soon

acquainted, in a short while they was playing, Smoky would kick at him

while the big buckskin nipped him easy and careful along the flank,

then he'd run away from him, and the little colt had a lot of fun

chasing that big hunk of horseflesh all over the country. The rest

of the bunch would watch the two play and with no effort to hide how

jealous they felt.

Smoky's mother kept her eye on the buckskin, but never interfered, she

knowed, and it was only when Smoky came back to her, tired and hungry,

that she put her ears back and warned him to keep away.

It took a few days before the buckskin would allow any of the other

horses to get near Smoky, and then he had no say about it for he found

that Smoky had his own ideas about things, and if he wanted to mingle

in with the other horses that was his business, and all the buckskin

could do then was to try and keep the other horses away. That was quite

a job, specially if Smoky wanted to be with them. So the buckskin

finally had to give it up and do the best he could which was to see

that none of 'em done him any harm. But none of 'em had any intentions

of doing the little colt any harm, and as it was it looked like Smoky

had 'em all buffaloed. He'd tear in after some big horse like he was

going to eat him up and all that big horse would do was to scatter out

like the devil was after him.

[Illustration: Smoky had 'em all buffaloed.]

Smoky was the boss and pet of the herd for a good two weeks and then

one day, here comes another little feller, a little bay colt just two

days old and trailing in alongside his mammy. Smoky was left in the

background and witnessed the same fuss and commotion that was done

over him that morning by the creek. The buckskin horse once again

fought his way in that new little feller's heart, and right away he

forgot Smoky.

But Smoky never seen anything wrong to that, he went on to playing with

every horse that would have him and it wasn't long till he picked up

with a young fillie and afterwards went to mingling with other young

colts.

From then on Smoky had more freedom, he could go out a ways without

having some big overgrowed horse tagging along, but he never went far

and if he did he always came back a heap faster than when he started

out. But them spring days was great for Smoky, he found out a lot of

things amongst which was, that grass was good to eat, and water mighty

fine to drink when the day was hot, he seen cayotes again and the

bigger he got the less he was afraid of 'em till he finally went to

chasing every one of 'em he'd see.

Then one day he run acrost another yellow animal. That animal didn't

look dangerous, and what's more it was hard for Smoky to make out just

what it was, and he was bound to find out. He followed that animal plum

to the edge of some willows, and the queer part of it was that animal

didn't seem at all in a hurry to get away, it was mumbling along and

just taking its time and Smoky was mighty tempted to plant one front

foot right in the middle of it and do some pawing, but as luck would

have it he didn't have the chance, it'd got in under some willows and

all that was sticking out was part of the animal's tail. Smoky took a

sniff at it without learning anything outside that it shook a little,

there didn't seem to be no danger, so the next sniff he took was a

little closer, and that done the trick. Smoky let out a squeal and a

snort as he felt his nostrils punctured in half a dozen places with

four-inch porcupine quills.

But Smoky was lucky, for if he'd been a couple of inches closer there'd

been quills rammed into his nose plum up to his eyes, which would've

caused a swelling in such size that he couldn't of been able to eat and

most likely starve to death. As it was there was just a few of them

quills in his nostrils, and compared to the real dose he might of got,

it was just a mild warning to him. Another lesson.

It was a few days later when he met another strange animal, or strange

animals, for there was many of 'em. He didn't get much interest out of

them somehow, but while they was handy maybe it was just as well for

him to have a close look at one. Besides he had nothing else to do, and

his mammy wasn't far away.

His instinct had no warning to give as he strutted towards the smallest

one of the strangers which he'd picked to investigate. He wasn't afraid

of this animal and this animal didn't seem afraid of him so Smoky kept

a getting closer till one was within a couple of feet of the other.

Both Smoky and this stranger was young, and mighty inquisitive, and

neither as yet knowed that they'd sure be seeing plenty of each other's

kind as they get older, that they'll be meeting thru the round-ups at

the "cutting-grounds," on "day-herd" and on "night-guard," on the long,

hot, and dusty trails. A cowboy will be riding Smoky then and keeping

a whole herd on the move, a whole herd of the kind that little Smoky

was so busy investigating that day. They'll be full grown then, and

there'll be other young ones to take the place of them that's trailed

in to the shipping point.

But Smoky wasn't as yet worried or even thought on what was to come,

neither was the little white-faced calf he was exchanging squints with,

and when the critter called her long-eared, split-hoofed baby to her

side, Smoky just kicked up his heels, put his head down, and bucked and

crowhopped all the way to where his mammy and the rest of the bunch was

grazing.