bling, conquered and subdued. As
Bob rode toward him, he stood for one defiant moment as motionless as a
horse of bronze; then, with a suddenness that gave Curly at the gate
barely time to dodge his rush, he leaped forward into the larger arena.

Phil was watching the stranger as the big horse came through the gate.
The man did not move, but his eyes were glowing darkly, his face was
flushed, and he was smiling to himself mockingly--as though amused at
the thought of what was about to happen to him. The Dean also was
watching Patches, and again the young foreman and his employer exchanged
significant glances as Phil turned and went quickly to Little Billy.
Lifting the lad from his saddle and seating him on the fence above the
long watering trough, he said, "There's a grandstand seat for you,
pardner; don't get down unless you have to, and then get down outside.
See?"

At that moment yells of warning, with a "Look out, Phil!" came from
Curly, Bob and the Dean.

A quick look over his shoulder, and Phil saw the big horse with ears
wickedly flat, eyes gleaming, and teeth bared, making straight in his
direction. The animal had apparently singled him out as the author of
his misfortunes, and proposed to dispose of his arch-enemy at the very
outset of the battle. There was only one sane thing to do, and Phil did
it. A vigorous, scrambling leap placed him beside Little Billy on the
top of the fence above the watering trough.

"Good thing I reserved a seat in your grandstand for myself, wasn't it,
pardner?" he smiled down at the boy by his side.

Then Bob's riata fell true, and as the powerful horse plunged and fought
that strangling noose Phil came leisurely down from the fence.

"Where was you goin', Phil?" chuckled the Dean.

"You sure warn't losin' any time," laughed Curly.

And Bob, without taking his eyes from the vicious animal at the end of
his taut riata, and working skillfully with his trained cow-horse to
foil every wicked plunge and wild leap, grinned with appreciation, as he
added, "I'll bet four bits you can't do it again, Phil, without a
runnin' start."

"I just thought I'd keep Little Billy company for a spell," smiled Phil.
"He looked so sort of lonesome up there."

The stranger, at first amazed that they could turn into jest an incident
which might so easily have been a tragedy, suddenly laughed aloud--a
joyous, ringing laugh that made Phil look at him sharply.

"I beg your pardon, Mr. Acton," said