"Is he broken?" I queried.
"Apparently he is gentle as a lamb to you," the _Villicus_ admitted, "but
how about the rest of us?"
"Bring in a saddle and bridle," I suggested, "and I'll bit him and hold
him while two of you saddle him and until one of you mounts him. He should
be no more dangerous than a roped filly."
They did as I suggested and I then rode him about until he appeared used
to the saddle and bit and already, at once, bridle-wise. Then one of the
wranglers rode him.
I gentled colt after colt all that day till sunset, with a very brief
pause for food and rest. Also I kept it up next day until mid-afternoon,
when the last colt had been tamed.
Then, as we stood breathing, one of the horse-wranglers suggested:
"Try him on Selinus."
"That would be plain murder," one of the others cried.
"I am not so sure," the _Villicus_ ruminated. "I am almost ready to feel
that he might even tame Selinus."
Off we trooped to the stable of the choice breeding-stallions. There, in a
darkened box-stall, I was shown a beautiful demon of a horse, four years
old, a sorrel, with a white face and white forefeet. He certainly looked
wicked enough.
"Will you try him?" the _Villicus_ asked me.
"Of course," I said.
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