None of the men complained as they left the camp to find a private place to wash up in the creek. While they were gone, a strange man, leading a saddleless and bridleless horse, came into camp. I knew by the way his eyes shifted quickly as he looked around our camp that he was up to no good.
I was right. He immediately started sifting through the saddles and bridles, turning them every which way as he examined them. I snorted and tossed my head, but he ignored me. He grabbed a saddle pad and a saddle that I knew belonged to Blaze. He threw them up on his horse’s back. At this point I started whinnying. I wanted the men to come back. I looked around for Nip but there was no sign of him. He was probably off hunting jackrabbits. I kept whinnying, hoping either Nip or George would hear me.
“Shut up, ya old nag,” the man shouted.
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