But he was only
a yearling then, you see, and I finally got him down."
Phil paused, a peculiar expression on his face. Patches waited silently.
"Do you know," said the cowboy, at last, hesitatingly, "I can't explain
it--and I don't talk about it much, for it was the strangest thing that
ever happened to me--but when I looked into that black stallion's eyes,
and he looked me straight in the face, I never felt so sorry for
anything in my life. I was sort of ashamed like--like--well, like I'd
been caught holding up a church, you know, or something like that. We
were all alone up there, just him and me, and while I was getting my
wind, and we were sizing each other up, and I was feeling that way, I
got to thinking what it all meant to him--to be broken and
educated--and--well--civilized, you know; and I thought what a horse he
would be if he was left alone to live as God made him, and so--well--"
He paused again with an embarrassed laugh.
"You let him go?" cried Patches.
"It's God's truth, Patches. I couldn't do anything else--I just
couldn't. One of the boys came up just in time to catch me turning him
loose, and, of course, the whole outfit just naturally raised hell about
it.
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