apable; about twenty years
of age, I should think, and looked after as much by every man on my
friend's ranche as she was by her own father. In fact, my friend Bain
seemed to take more than a fatherly interest in her. She called him
Tom, and he called her Edna, though in this particular respect Tom was
not privileged more than any of the other fellows. But her eyes were
always bright when Tom was near, and--but there, it was none of my
business. Only, as I said before, I kept one eye lifted for most things.

Very soon I began really to enjoy the life very much, for its own sake.
There were many things lacking in the matter of house accommodation and
comfort, compared with my English home; but it was jolly, real jolly. I
never felt so well and strong in all my life as when I was galloping
over those hills, on occasion of a general inspection of the ranche. And
it was a lark, I tell you, rounding up the cattle.

Of course, all the fellows on the ranche could ride like--well, they
could ride anything. I got out of the road when there was any of the
expert business on, such as "cutting out," and "corralling." But I began
gradually to feel my way in accomplishing their many tricks of
horsemanship, and I was able, in course of time, to take a small part in
the work of the corral.

I essayed to throw the lasso, or lariat, of course, as one of the very
first experiences in ranche life. It is one of the many interesting
things you must learn on a cattle-ranche--to use the lasso. Every man
carries his rope on his saddle, as a necessary--in fact, there, _the_
most necessary--part of his equipment. A ranchero would as soon think of
riding off without his lasso as an English sportsman would think of
going partridge-shooting without his gun.

It looks so easy, throwing the lasso. You begin first on foot, and try
to throw the rope over a post or something, not very far away. After
many hours, at the end of which time you know what it is to have an
arm-ache--it may be many days, even many weeks, before you are able to
do it--you succeed in lassoing your object two or three times in
succession. Ha! ha! You have conquered. You have discovered the knack at
last. And you hastily mount your horse to see if you can manage the real
thing.

You throw aside your practice rope, unwind the lasso from the horn of
the saddle, and essay a "mounted" throw. Your patient animal remains
perfectly still and quiet. He seems to know you are a tenderfo