Texas Bill's eye glared, and his hand jerked toward his hip pocket.
Then he grunted and walked over to where I was feeding the two Angora
goats out of my hands.

"If he was a man--" he began in an angry voice, and then broke off.
"But I 'm not fightin' babies. I thought I 'd keep him from breakin'
his durn fool neck, but he can go it now as fast as he wants to."

The superintendent came out and told Kid he would have to obey orders
or go back to Deming at once. So he sullenly mounted the meek and
humble pony and cantered off.

About mid-forenoon, when there was no one at home but little Madge, the
ten-year-old daughter of the house, the cook, and myself, Kid galloped
back alone. Madge came dancing from the corral to where I sat in the
front yard, her eyes blazing and her hands quivering with excitement.

"Oh!" she exclaimed, "He's going to ride Dynamite! He 's run off from
them and come back to ride Dynamite!"

"He must not do it! I must not let him!" And I started for the
corral. Madge grasped my skirt with both hands.

"Dynamite won't hurt him! I know he won't!"

"What do you know about it?"

"I know he won't because--don't you tell mamma--I was on him myself one
day, and he never bucked a bit!"