l another
cigarette while another art study was made. He continued to lounge there
while the artist packed his camera. What had he been afraid of? He could
sit a horse as well as the next man; probably a few little tricks about
it he hadn't learned yet, but he'd get these, too.

"I bet they'll come out fine," he called to the departing artist. "Leave
that to me. I dare say I'll be able to do something good with them. So
long."

"So long," returned Merton, and was left alone on the back of a horse
higher than people would think until they got on him. Indeed he was
beginning to like it. If you just had a little nerve you needn't be
afraid of anything. Very carefully he clambered from the saddle. His old
pal shook himself with relief and stood once more with bowed head and
crossed forelegs.

His late burden observed him approvingly. There was good old Pinto after
a hard day's run over the mesa. He had borne his beloved owner far ahead
of the sheriff's posse, and was now securing a moment's much-needed
rest. Merton undid the riata and for half an hour practised casting it
at his immobile pet. Once the noose settled unerringly over the head of
Dexter, who still remained immobile.

Then there was the lightning draw to be practised. Again and again the
trusty weapon of Buck Benson flashed from its holster to the damage of
a slower adversary. He was getting that draw down pretty good. From the
hip with straight wrist and forearm Buck was ready to shoot in no time
at all. Throughout that villain-infested terrain along the border he was
known for his quick draw. The most desperate of them would never molest
him except they could shoot him from behind. With his back to a wall,
they slunk from the encounter.

Elated from this practice and from the memory of that one successful
rope cast, Merton became daring in the extreme. He considered nothing
less than remounting his old pal and riding, in the cool of early
evening, up and down the alley upon which the barnyard gave. He coiled
the rope and again lashed it to the left front of the saddle. Then he
curved an affectionate arm over the arched neck of Pinto, who sighed
deeply.

"Well, old pal, you and me has still got some mighty long miles to git
over between now and sunup to-morrow. I reckon we got to put a right
smart of distance between us and that pesky sheriff's posse, but I know
yuh ain't lost heart, old pal."

Dexter here tossed his head, being cloyed with these embra