"What do you mean, you pesky critter?" demanded Joshua.

The mustang turned his head and glanced composedly at the burden he
was carrying.

"G'lang!" said Joshua, and he brought down his whip on the flanks of
the animal.

It is not in mustang nature to submit to such an outrage without
expressing proper resentment. The animal threw up its hind legs,
lowering its head at the same time, and Joshua Bickford, describing a
sudden somersault, found himself sitting down on the ground a few
feet in front of his horse, not seriously injured, but considerably
bewildered.

"By gosh!" he ejaculated.

"Why didn't you tell me you were going to dismount, Mr. Bickford?"
asked Joe, his eyes twinkling with merriment.

"Because I didn't know it myself," said Joshua, rising and rubbing
his jarred frame.

The mustang did not offer to run away, but stood calmly surveying him
as if it had had nothing to do with his rider's sudden dismounting.

"Darn the critter! He looks just as if nothing had happened," said
Joshua. "He served me a mean trick."

"It was a gentle hint that he was tired," said Joe.