This brought an exclamation of approval from the audience.
"Now git up on your feet."
"Don't be in a hurry. I want to ride him around the stack a few
times to get the hang of the ring," laughed Phil. "It's a good,
safe place to fall, anyway. Do I get some breakfast after
this exhibition?" he questioned.
"That depends. Go on."
"Gid-dap!" commanded Phil, patting the black on its powerful
neck.
Then they went trotting around the stack, the men backing off to
get a better view of the exhibition.
On the second round Phil drew up before them.
"Got any chalk on the place?" he asked.
"Reckon there's some in the barn."
"Please fetch it."
They did not know what he wanted chalk for, but the owner of
the place hurried to fetch it. In the meantime Phil was slowly
removing his shoes, which he threw to one side of the yard.
Bidding the men break up the chalk into powder, he smeared the
bottoms of his stockings with the white powder, sprinkling a
liberal supply on the back of the horse.
"Here, here! What you doing? I have to curry that critter down
every morning," shouted the owner.
Phil grinned and clucked to the horse, whose motion he had caught
in his brief ride about the stack, and once more disappeared
around the pile.
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