looked with extreme disfavour on both.

"This is no race meet," I reminded him. "This is a means of
transportation."

"Sorry I ain't got nothing better," apologized Meigs, to whom I had
confided my companion's profession--I had to account for such a figure
somehow. "All my saddle hosses went off with a mine outfit yesterday."

"What's the matter with that chestnut in the shed?"

"He's all right; fine beast. Only it ain't mine. It belongs to Ramon."

"Ramon from Hooper's?"

"Yeah."

"I'd let you ride my horse and take Meigs's old skate myself," I said to
Brower, "but when you first get on him this bronc of mine is a
rip-humming tail twister. Ain't he, Meigs?"

"He's a bad _caballo_," corroborated Meigs.

"Does he buck?" queried Brower, indifferently.

"Every known fashion. Bites, scratches, gouges, and paws. Want to try
him?"

"I got a headache," replied Brower, grouchily. "Bring out your old dog."

When I came back from roping and blindfolding the twisted dynamite I was
engaged in "gentling," I found that Brower was saddling the mournful
creature with my saddle. My expostulation found him very snappy and
very arbitrary. His opium-irritated nerves were beginning to react. I
realized that he was not far short of explosive obstinacy. So I conceded
the point; although, as every rider knows, a cowboy's saddle and a
cowboy's gun are like unto a toothbrush when it comes to lending. Also
it involved changing the stirrup length on the livery saddle. I needed
things just right to ride Tiger through the first five minutes.

When I had completed this latter operation, Brower had just finished
drawing tight the cinch. His horse stood dejectedly. When Brower had
made fast the latigo, the horse--as such dispirited animals often
do--heaved a deep sigh. Something snapped beneath the slight strain of
the indrawn breath.

"Dogged if your cinch ain't busted!" cried Meigs with a loud laugh.
"Lucky for you your friend did borrow your saddle! If you'd clumb Tiger
with that outfit you could just naturally have begun pickin' out the
likely-looking she-angels."

I dropped the stirrup and went over to examine the damage. Both of the
quarter straps on the off side had given way. I found that they had been
cut nearly through with a sharp knife. My eye strayed to Ramon's
chestnut horse standing under the shed.

CHAPTER IX

We jogged out to Box Springs by way of the lower alkali flats. It is
about three miles farther th