Perhaps it would be better not to ride him any more to-day.

Perhaps it would be better not to ride him again until next Sunday.

After all, wasn't Dexter practically a wild horse, caught up from the range and broken to saddle only that afternoon?
No use overdoing it.

At this moment the beast's back looked higher than ever.
It was the cutting remark of a thoughtless, empty-headed girl that confirmed Merton in his rash resolve.

Metta Judson, again on the back steps, surveyed the scene with kindling eyes.
"I bet you daresn't get on him again," said Metta.
These were strong words; not words to be flung lightly at Two-Gun Benson.
"You know a lot about it, don't you ?" parried Merton Gill.
"Afraid of that old skate!" murmured Metta, counterfeiting the inflections of pity.
Her target shot her a glance of equal pity for her lack of understanding and empty-headed banter.