himself, and has been brought up to think he knows something about
speed. The cayote will go swinging gently off on that deceitful trot of
his, and every little while he will smile a fraudful smile over his
shoulder that will fill that dog entirely full of encouragement and
worldly ambition, and make him lay his head still lower to the ground,
and stretch his neck further to the front, and pant more fiercely, and
stick his tail out straighter behind, and move his furious legs with a
yet wilder frenzy, and leave a broader and broader, and higher and
denser cloud of desert sand smoking behind, and marking his long wake
across the level plain! And all this time the dog is only a short twenty
feet behind the cayote, and to save the soul of him he cannot understand
why it is that he cannot get perceptibly closer; and he begins to get
aggravated, and it makes him madder and madder to see how gently the
cayote glides along and never pants or sweats or ceases to smile; and he
grows still more and more incensed to see how shamefully he has been
taken in by an entire stranger, and what an ignoble swindle that long,
calm, soft-footed trot is; and next he notices that he is getting
fagged, and that the cayote actually has to slacken speed a little to
keep from running away from him—and _then_ that town-dog is mad in
earnest, and he begins to strain and weep and swear, and paw the sand
higher than ever, and reach for the cayote with concentrated and
desperate energy. This “spurt” finds him six feet behind the gliding
enemy, and two miles from his friends. And then, in the instant that a
wild new hope is lighting up his face, the cayote turns and smiles
blandly upon him once more, and with a something about it which seems to
say, “Well, I shall have to tear myself away from you, bud—business is
business, and it will not do for me to be fooling along this way all
day”—and forthwith there is a rushing sound, and the sudden splitting of
a long crack through the atmosphere, and behold that dog is solitary and
alone in the midst of a vast solitude!
THE PONY RIDER
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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