Even the fascination of a woman's beauty did not follow
him much beyond the bridge.
Mason, hurrying from the feminine atmosphere at the house, found him
seriously discussing with Buddy the diet and general care of Rambler,
who had been moved into a roomy box stall for shelter. Buddy was to
have the privilege of filling the manger with hay every morning after
breakfast, and every evening just before supper. Upon Buddy also
devolved the duty of keeping his drinking tub filled with clean water;
and Buddy was making himself as tall as possible during the conference,
and was crossing his heart solemnly while he promised, wide-eyed, to
keep away from Rambler's heels.
"I never knew him to kick, or offer to; but you stay out of the stall,
anyway. You can fill his tub through that hole in the wall. And you let
Walt rub him down good every day--you see that he does it, Bud! And when
he gets well, I'll let you ride him, maybe. Anyway, I leave him in your
care, old-timer. And it's a privilege I wouldn't give every man. I think
a heap of this horse." He turned at the sound of footsteps, and lowered
an eyelid slowly for Mason's benefit.
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