anxiety in Moran’s voice still persisted and he withheld the snap of fangs that would have hopelessly crippled one hind leg. While he ran on close behind the bunch, a horse lashed out at him with wicked heels and even as he ducked the kick Flash knew that he must punish those offending feet. He darted in and nipped the heel.
He heard Moran’s wild yell of encouragement. It dispelled all doubt—this was the thing to do.
He darted from horse to horse and his was the strike of the born heeler. Not once did he bite as the hind foot struck the ground, when a kick might have brained him, but timed each nip when the hind legs were outstretched to the fullest extent at the end of the stride. Before Moran could recall him he had scattered the flying horses all over the flat.
Moran patiently rounded them up each time Flash scattered them, and at last he understood that Moran wanted them to remain bunched and headed for home. From then on no straggler left the horse herd. If one started Flash was after him at a motion from Moran, and before he moved far he was headed back for the bunch.
After a few more lessons he knew what was
