"This is Dick, my father's horse,"--nodding toward a sorrel, large
and well set-up. "He will be your mount. The animal in the next stall
is Pirate."

Pirate was the handsomest black gelding Warburton had ever laid eyes
on.

"What a beauty!" he exclaimed enthusiastically, forgetting that
grooms should be utterly without enthusiasm. He reached out his hand
to pat the black nose, when a warning cry restrained him. Pirate's
ears lay flat.

"Take care! He is a bad-tempered animal. No one rides him, and we
keep him only to exhibit at the shows. Only half a dozen men have
ridden him with any success. He won't take a curb in his mouth, and
he always runs away. It takes a very strong man to hold him in. I
really don't believe that he's vicious, only terribly mischievous,
like a bullying boy."

"I should like to ride him."

The girl looked at her new groom in a manner which expressed frank
astonishment. Was he in earnest, or was it mere bravado? An idea came
to her, a mischievous idea.

"If you can sit on Pirate's back for ten minutes, there will not be
any question of probation. I promise to engage you on the spot,
recommendation or no recommendation." Would he, back down?