Elbert had ceased to breathe. Raw and angry patches wavered in imagination before his eyes, as the saddle was being removed. Hide and hair unruffled--a flood of thankfulness went through him. He moved around to Mamie’s far side and all looked intact there, too. Mort’s twisted hand was now knuckling down the buttons of the mare’s spine. ‘Thought so, all the weight on her kidneys. Say--’ The old man’s glance had turned to Elbert really for the first time, the sharp eyes settling upon his riding cords. ‘Caked, or I’m a Spaniard! I see you’ve been punished, too. Come on into the house. The boys will take care of Mamie. They know her.’ Elbert obeyed, but made no move to a chair as they entered the cool front room. ‘I led her down part of the way,’ he confessed unsteadily. ‘But she wanted to get here. She’s so much--all the time--’ ‘She sure is--so much hoss all the time. I know her. And what you want now, young man, isn’t to hurry away nowhere too sudden, but quarters to cool down in right here, good upstandin’ quarters. And say, I’ve got some hosses for you to do your rough ridin’ on. Mamie’s a bit too fine to break a man in. I’m goin’ to give you some lessons personal, before you leave, and bring you up, so’s you’ll know what you’re ridin’, when you get Mamie under the saddle--’ ‘Not at once,’ said Elbert. ‘No, you’ll be walkin’ like a bear for a week yet.’ VII THE SOFT SIDE OF A SADDLE ELBERT limped out to Mort Cotton’s stables next morning. Mamie saw him coming, her head hanging out above the half-door. She began nodding in a way that made him know she was pawing the ground, though he couldn’t see her feet. It wasn’t hay she wanted. Was it word of the one who did not come, or more of the Road, she was asking for? Elbert wouldn’t have confided to any one the humility he felt, as he moved close. All through a painful night, he had dreamed of the mare running from him, fighting his approach and presence. She would stand up on her hind legs and strike at him when he came near. Ugly lot of sleep torments, in which Mamie was always getting hurt--his fault--but nothing to them after all. Here she was fresh and blithe as usual, nudging, nosing, ready as a child to begin all over again. A fine lift went through him, that she didn’t hold a grudge. He had to rub his eyes after a moment ... Mexico, riding South, plazas at night, camps in the open, days in the saddle, the freedom he had dreamed of. ... In the next ten days all business was finished in San Forenso and Elbert was healed enough to begin his course in horsemanship under Mort Cotton--the actual riding part. So far as words went, the drill had begun at once.