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Show 150 Tommy never mentioned these things, but they were corroborated when he showed us his photograph albums. He was intensely interested in our whole way of life, and took potluck with us, but made frank comments: "If the girls back east dressed like that, wore that much makeup, they'd be thought of as chippies. " "You know, there. Where I came from you'd be hauled before the humane society for that. " This observation was to me because of my use of the quirt on Teddy, our little s®rrel mustang pony, when Tommy went with me to to Sevier to give music lessons. This was my own enterprise. I taught there once a week, at twenty-five cents a lesson. Papa had caught Teddy, a dimunitive wild horse red as ginger, and named him Teddy Roosevelt from his independent spirit. On the way home, for instance, he had pitched Papa into a prickly pear, something a bigger horse couldn't , or wouldn't, do. He was the weakest, sickest, lamest and most delapidated horse when his tail was pointed toward home, but once he was headed home he was full of vinegar and swift as a streak of lightning. On this occasion we were headed away from home, and he was going through his bag of tricks, the last of which was to snort in simulated terror at a mere team at the side of the road, peacefully eating out of the back-end of a buggy. Teddy reared and pitched, sat down on his haunches, snorted and rolled his eyes wildly, as if gazing on a ghost rider in the sky. It took the quirt to get him past this apparition, also spurs, applied vigorously. He acted wild until we passed it, |