"Is there anything I can do?
I see that your stirrup leather is twisted." With that she arose, came down, removed my foot from the stirrup, in a businesslike manner, reversed the iron, and put my foot back for me.
I thanked her.
"Anything else ?" she asked, her wicked eye twinkling.
"Perhaps," I ventured, "perhaps you know how to make a horse single-foot ?" "There are different ways," she said.

"With Dr.Bell you might try using the curb gently, working it from side to side." "I will," I said.

"Thank you very much." "And," said the girl, "if he ever takes a notion to bolt with you, or to go up to some house where you don't want him to go, just touch him with the curb.

That will fix him.

He's very soft-bitted." "But I tried that," I protested.
She looked at my reins, then shook her head.
"No," she said, "you've got your curb rein and your snaffle rein mixed." "I am very much indebted to you," I said, as I changed the position of the reins between my fingers.
"Not at all," said she.