demonstrate his horsemanship.

Broncho-busting was the order of the next day at Mosquito Bend, and
all hands were agog, and an element of general cheeriness pervaded the
bunkhouse whilst breakfast was in preparation. Marbolt had obtained a
contract to supply the troops with a large band of remounts, and the
terms demanded that each animal must be saddle-broken.

Tresler, with the rest, was up betimes. He, too, was going to take his
part in the horse-breaking. While breakfast was in the course of
preparation he went out to overhaul his saddle. There must be no
doubtful straps in his gear. Each saddle would have a heavy part to
play, and his own, being one he had bought second-hand from one of his
comrades, needed looking to.

He was very thoughtful as he went about his work. His overnight talk
with Joe Nelson had made him realize that he was no longer a
looker-on, a pupil, simply one of the hands on the ranch. Hitherto he
had felt, in a measure, free in his actions. He could do as it pleased
him to do. He could have severed himself from the ranch, and washed
his hands of all that was doing there. Now it was different. Whether
he would or no he must play out his part. He had taken a certain
stand, and that stand involved him with responsibilities which he had
no wish to shirk.

His saddle was in order, his mare had been rubbed down and fed, and he
was leisurely strolling over to the bunkhouse for breakfast. And as he
passed the foreman's hut he heard Jake's voice from within hailing him
with unwonted cheeriness.

"Mornin', Tresler," he called out. "Late gettin' in last night."

Tresler moved over and stood in the doorway. He was wary of the tone,
and answered coolly--

"Yes; the mare bolted this side of the ford, and took me ten miles
south. When I got on the Forks trail I met Nelson on his way home."

"Ah, that mare's the very devil. How are you doin' with her now?"

"Oh, so, so. She leads me a dance, but I'd rather have her than any
plug you've got on the ranch. She's the finest thing I've ever put a
leg over."

"Yes, guess that's so. The boss was always struck on her. I kind of
remember when she came. She wasn't bred hereabouts. The old man bought
her from some half-breed outfit goin' through the country three years
ago--that's how he told me. Then we tried to break her. Say, you've
done well with her, boy."

Jake had been lacing up a pair of high field boots; they were massive
things with heavy, clumped