Actually, as Mr. Grimes pointed out later, Francis should have thanked the old chief, because what happened next loosened Francis in a hurry. But when that switch landed, he was too surprised to do anything but grab the mane of the black mare and close his eyes.

The mare became a dark comet, flashing through the middle of the awakening Sioux village like a fast wind. She knocked dogs out of the way and cleared cooking fires—jumping completely over one old woman kneeling over a pot of food. Through all this, Francis managed somehow to stay on her back.

When the mare reached the edge of the village, she stopped. Francis naturally kept on going, and finally he stopped with his face buried in a pile of still raw buffalo hides, but his troubles weren’t over yet.

Coming hot on the heels of the little mare was the old woman, throwing rocks as fast as she could. Francis might be a good wrestler, and very smart to outwit Braid—but nobody jumped a horse over the old woman and her cook fire and got away with it.

Francis was quick to recognize disaster. Forgetting the mare, he made a dash back toward the safety of Mr. Grimes.

Mr. Grimes wasn’t offering much safety. In fact, he wasn’t offering anything. He and Standing Bear were wrapped over the top of the pole of the corral, laughing till tears ran down their cheeks.

“Keep it up, Mr. Tucket,” the trapper said, as Francis ran by. “She’s gaining on you.”

Within a hundred yards Francis outran the old woman and her deadly rocks, and had also managed to kick away about ten of the camp dogs that had been snapping at his heels.

“Jokers,” he mumbled, returning to the corral. The mare had walked back, looking as meek as she had before the wild ride. “Real jokers. I bet you get a lot of laughs out of throwing people off cliffs.”

“Now, Mr. Tucket. Old Standing Bear just wanted you to know you were getting a pony that knew how to run.” The mountain man was barely holding back laughter. “Besides, look how loose you are. You might as well be an old washrag …”

Francis nodded, looking down at himself. “And I look like one, too.” But his anger weakened fast, and he smiled. The truth was he had loosened up.

“We’ll stop early today,” Mr. Grimes said. “I feel like some fresh antelope. And you can just carry your buckskins until then, so you can take a bath and start all new.”

“I guess I will go with you,” Francis said.

“Oh. Well, that depends, Mr. Tucket.”

“On what?”

“On whether or not you can spend half a day riding downwind of me. You smell positively ripe from those hides.”

——— Chapter Eleven ———