Maud was his
horse.
Besides, when he did climb to some aerie, and photographed me, for
instance, in a sort of Napoleon-crossing-the-Alps attitude, sitting my
horse on the brink of eternity and being reassured from safety by the
Optimist--outside the picture, of course--the developed film flattened
out the landscape. So that, although I was on the edge of a canon a mile
deep, I might as well have been posing on the bank of the Ohio River.
On the east side of the Park I had ridden Highball. It is not
particularly significant that I started the summer on Highball and ended
it on Budweiser. Now I had Angel, a huge white mare with a pink nose, a
loving disposition, and a gait that kept me swallowing my tongue for
fear I would bite the end off it. The Little Boy had Prince, a small
pony which ran exactly like an Airedale dog, and in every canter beat
out the entire string. The Head had H----, and considered him well
indicated. One bronco was called "Bronchitis." The top horse of the
string was Bill Shea's Dynamite, according to Bill Shea. There were
Dusty, Shorty, Sally Goodwin, Buffalo Tom, Chalk-Eye, Comet, and
Swapping Tater--Swapping Tater being a pacer who, when he hit the
ground, swapped feet.
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