He came down, and immediately hoisted his heels into the air, delivering a vicious kick at the sky, and stood on his forefeet.

And then down he came once more, and began the original exercise of shooting me straight up again.

The third time I went up I heard a stranger say: "Oh, don't he buck, though!" While I was up, somebody struck the horse a sounding thwack with a leathern strap, and when I arrived again the Genuine Mexican Plug was not there.

A California youth chased him up and caught him, and asked if he might have a ride.

I granted him that luxury.