The horse was
a glossy, clean-limbed sorrel with a quick, intelligent eye. The bridle
was of braided rawhide, the broad spade-bit heavily inlaid with silver,
the reins of braided and knotted rawhide. Across the animal's brow ran
three plates of silver linked together. Below its ears were wide silver
_conchas_. The saddle was carved elaborately, and likewise ornamented
with silver. The whole outfit shone--new-polished and well kept.
"Oh, you John!" called Plant.
The old man moved his left hand slightly. The proud-stepping sorrel
instantly turned to the left, and, on a signal Bob could not
distinguish, stopped to statue-like immobility. Then Bob could see the
Forest Ranger badge pinned to one strap of the old man's suspender.
"John," said Plant, "they tell me there's a fire over at Stone Creek.
Ride over and see what it amounts to."
"All right," replied the Ranger. "What help do I get?"
"Oh, you just ride over and see what it amounts to," repeated Plant.
"I can't do nothing alone fighting fire."
"Well I can't spare anybody now," said Plant, "and it may not amount to
nothing.
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