He was beautiful, but not too graceful or sleek or fine-pointed or prancing to prejudice any cowboy against his qualities for work.
Jack Belllounds admiringly walked all around the mustang a little too close to please Spottie.
"Moore, he's a fair-to-middling horse," said Belllounds, with the air of judge of horseflesh.

"What's his name ?" "Spottie," replied Moore, shortly, as he made ready to mount.
"Hold on, will you!" ordered Jack, peremptorily.

"I like this horse.

I want to look him over." When he grasped the bridle-reins out of the cowboy's hand Spottie jumped as if he had been shot at.

Belllounds jerked at him and went closer.