That's the caliber of most range horses. Clint had handled many of 'em and always won out with their confidence and turned 'em over as broke with their spirit intact. He'd savvied Smoky the minute he dabbed his rope on him that first time: that pony was wild, wild as a horse or any animal can get, and he had the strength to go with it; but Clint seen where that little horse also had a mighty fine set of brains between them little pointed ears of his. He treated him like a grown up would treat a kid, a kid of the kind that'd learn a lot if the chance showed up, and he missed no chance to show that pony all he should know and how good he wanted to be to him. "Daggone it Smoky," he'd say, "it's too bad you can't know without I have to use a lot of ropes, as it is sometimes. I bet you don't think I'm a friend of yours, none at all." Clint was right. At first Smoky had took him as an enemy and fought him according; then had come a time when he was willing to trust him some, specially when Clint had come and untangled him out of that long picket rope, talked to him, and rubbed his ears. His heart had got over thumping so much when he'd see the cowboy coming of evenings, and even tho the little horse didn't realize it as yet, he'd got to expecting him. Then, and just about when his liking for the cowboy was coming to the top fast, something happened that'd make him wonder for a spell if that cowboy was a friend or still an enemy. The "sacking" he'd went thru in the corral had sort of jarred the confidence that'd begin to sprout for the bow-legged crethure, and then the way his head was jerked up out of his bucking spell with the empty saddle, all had left him puzzled as whether to start in and do some fighting or else be good and take his medicine. Smoky had no way of knowing as yet what was expected of him, and it was a ticklish time for him. It was right then that he'd have to be handled just right and when the turning point for the good or the bad would be decided on. But Clint knowed how the turn to the good layed and it was right there that he proceeded to bring it out. There was only one way to it and that was for Clint to _show_ Smoky he had to be good. The cowboy knowed Smoky had brains a plenty to realize once he was showed, that he had to do just what he wanted him to do, that of course would take a little time, the pony would fight some more and _want_ to be showed, and to keep him from getting flustrated that horse would have to have his own way, some. CHAPTER VI "THE SQUEAK OF LEATHER"