It was one thing to admire the big bay from the
ground, and it was another to be astride him. Target--that was his name-
-had a spirited temper, an iron mouth, and he had been used to a sterner
hand than mine. He danced all over the glade before he decided to behave
himself. Riding him, however, was such a great pleasure that a more timid
boy than I would have taken the risk. He would not let any horse stay near
him; he pulled on the bridle, and leaped whenever a branch brushed him. I
had been on some good horses, but never on one with a swing like his, and I
grew more and more possessed with the desire to let him run.
"Like as not he'll bolt with you. Hold him in, Ken!" called Dick, as he
mounted. Then he shouted a final word to the prisoners, saying they would
be looked after, and drove the pack-ponies into the trail. As we rode out
we passed several of the horses that we had decided to leave behind, and as
they wanted to follow us it was necessary to drive them back.
I had my hands full with the big, steel-jawed steed I was trying to hold
in. It was the hardest work of the kind that I had ever undertaken. I had
never worn spurs, but now I began to wish for them. We traveled at a good
clip, as fast as the pack-ponies could go, and covered a long distance by
camping-time.
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