‘A bad name, that horse had, but he wasn’t really bad. A horse isn’t like a man; he isn’t like a dog. A horse is more like a woman--he goes by feeling, not by his head. A dog will dope a thing out; a mule will, but a horse feels his way. Why, that mare of yours--I’ll bet she doesn’t miss much that’s goin’ on, even if her back’s turned. You’re not foolin’ her a lot, even if you think you are. She’s cute as a woman-- ‘The more a man knows about a horse, the more he respects him, the more careful he is,’ Bart went on. ‘You never see a real hand yank his horse around or flourish none. You’re apt not to know a real ridin’ gent unless you’re one yourself. He works easy, and doesn’t attract the eye. You never see him starting a horse into a run as soon as he leaves the corral--unless there’s mighty pressin’ business, like that night we first got together. You don’t see him rowel or quirt, because a real hand doesn’t bring up a horse to need stimulants that way. And he isn’t botherin’ with one that does--not for long. Nine times out of ten a bad horse is man-spoiled, and a real hand doesn’t care to mix with other men’s botched jobs.’ Elbert couldn’t help but see Cal Monroid in all this--Cal, and the way he handled and sat old Chester. Bart and Cal were curiously alike in the one utterly cool and nerveless quality. Evidently it was in this quality, first of all, that their mastery over horses lay--no nerves to confuse the feelings of a mount. ‘That old gray had been raked and hooked so long that all he knew was to fight back. Everybody over at the rancho was afraid of him. Of course, the fellows didn’t say they were; they’re more afraid of each other finding out that they’re afraid, than they are of what they’re afraid of--’ ‘I can see that,’ said Elbert. A curious look came into Bart’s eyes--a trace of deep rest. ‘You see, a horse knows when a man’s afraid. He smells fear, or feels it. He gets afraid, too, or confused--loses what little head he’s got. He begins to look out through a sheet of blood, if you drive him deeper into fear. If pushed far, he goes crazy, and that’s what they call a bad horse. Sometimes they are ten times as strong as a horse in his right senses--just like a man-maniac--’ Elbert had so much to say it was hard to keep still. ‘You see, I wanted that old gray so badly for my own,’ Bart went on. ‘They told me how bad he was, but I couldn’t believe it. He let me get up to him--let me climb on his back. But when I got him back to Bismo, everybody remembered him bein’ an outlaw. Dad tried breakin’ him again--and they took him back to the Cup Q.’