They came acrost other little bunches, but it seemed like in each of ’em there was a wild eyed thick-jawed stud come out ready to kick the daylight out of ’em if any symptoms of them wanting to trail in with the bunch was showed.
In their roaming around they passed other geldings which like themselves had been kicked out of the stud bunches; the meeting with them was just plain “howdedo’s” and each and all passed on and headed their own wandering way.—All would be hunkydory again for the buckskin if he could find another bunch to run with where there was mares and little colts. He had a mighty strong failing for the little fellers and most any bunch would do if there was only a few of them in; but with Smoky, it was his mammy he missed most, his brother, and the other colts he’d growed up with.
No other bunch would do as well, and the nicker he’d send echoing acrost canyons and over ridges every once in a while was just for them certain few.
Smoky’s mammy had no choice when that black stallion came and scattered them out to his liking that way. She was made to join that little bunch of his and she knowed better than try to do different; she knowed she’d only lose some hide in any attempt to get away and that in the long run she’d have to do as he pointed out.
She was wise to the range and the ways of her kind, and even though she was as strong for Smoky as Smoky was for her she didn’t miss him so much as he did her. She felt in a way that he was now big and mighty able to take care of himself, and then there was other youngsters which called for all her attention. But it was different with Smoky; she was his mammy and there was none other that could take her place. He’d growed up at her side and even though other little colts had come she was and always would be the mother he knowed when he was wobblety legged and needed her.
Then one day and as time had wore on in lonesomeness that way, there came a short break in the monotony which helped Smoky forget some. Him and the buckskin had run acrost a little bunch of mares—there was some little colts in the bunch, and a stud, a young stud.
The big buckskin sized up the stud the same as he’d sized all the others he’d met, and as this young feller came up full of pride and confidence to meet the two strangers, the big buckskin found a flaw in him—the flaw was nothing more or less than just youth, he showed it in every move he made and every action.—From past experience the buckskin had figgered youth and ignorance to go together, and that’s what made it interesting.
Interesting by the fact that thru youth and ignorance the young stallion wouldn’t maybe be able to compete against the fighting ability of the buckskin. The younger horse hadn’t as yet fought many battles; that the buckskin could feel at a glance of him. He didn’t turn away like he’d done before—as the stallion came on he just stood in his tracks and watched him. Smoky was doing the same.
There’s bowed necks as the three touch nostrils, there’s some squealing and striking and then a kick is planted—the young stud had started things.
Smoky had caught the kick, which left him out a ways. In the meantime the buckskin followed up the lead and went at it from there. It was all a mighty fair exchange from the start, kicks and bites was averaging pretty well on both parties, and for a young horse that chestnut stud was sure doing well. All might of come to a draw and both fighters might of quit about the same time, if it hadn’t been for Smoky.
Smoky, which had got to be pretty thick with the buckskin, and had been a good pardner of his thru their lonesome roamings, found it mighty natural like wanting to help when trouble came that way; besides he was holding a grudge against the stud for kicking him the way he did, and all them things together kinda had him worked up to mix in.
His chance came as the chestnut whirled to plant a hard one on the buckskin’s ribs. There was only a few feet between Smoky and the stud right then and double action started from there. The stud felt hard hitting hoofs and teeth a getting him from both sides and the punishment he received all at once wouldn’t of been worse if he’d a lit in a stack of wild cats.
It was then that it come to his mind, and sudden, that he should let up on the fighting and start to do some running if he wanted to keep hisself all in one piece. Smoky and the buckskin kept a pounding on him and a helping along on the good hunch till finally it was all made mighty plain. The chestnut picked himself up as best and quick as he could, and made a leap out of reach of the too many wicked hoofs and teeth, and tore up the earth for a change of scenery. The two pardners done their best to escort him on his way.
But as that day came to an end and as the sun passed over and beyond the blue ridges, Smoky and his pardner could see a lone horse outlined against the sky; the chestnut was following. He followed ’em and the bunch they’d chased him out of for three days, and
