He's the
man who makes or unmakes you after you have passed the eagle eyes
of the proprietor," Dimples laughed. "From what I hear I guess
you stand pretty high with Mr. Sparling."
"I try to do what is right--do the best I know how."
She nodded, clucking to the gray and Phil stopped talking at
once, for he was fully occupied in sticking to the horse,
over whose back he sprawled every now and then in the most
ridiculous of positions. But, before the afternoon's practice
had ended, the lad had made distinct progress. He found himself
able to stand erect, by the aid of the bridle rein, and to keep
his position fairly well while the animal took a slow gallop.
He had not yet quite gotten over the dizziness caused by the
constant traveling about in a circle in the narrow ring,
but Dimples assured him that, after a few more turns, this would
wear off entirely.
After finishing the practice, Dimples led her horse back
to the horse tent, promising Phil that they should meet the
next afternoon.
Phil had no more than changed to his street clothes before he
received a summons to go to Mr. Sparling in his private tent.
"I wonder what's wrong now?" muttered the lad. "But, I think
I know.
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