ad gone to help a manservant fetch the trunk from the
other end of the car. Isobel untied the saddle horses from the rear of
the buckboard. The trunk was lifted in, and Blake lashed it on,
together with his level rod and tripod, using Ashton's lariat.

"Level is in the trunk," he explained, in response to Ashton's look of
inquiry. "I suppose we ride."

"I think it will be better if Lafe drives," objected Isobel. "I am so
reckless, and you don't know the road, as he does. The only thing is
Rocket--Lafe has about trained him out of his tricks. But I should
warn you that the hawss has been rather vicious."

"Tom will ride him," confidently stated Mrs. Blake.

Her husband took the bridle reins of the big horse and mounted him
with the agility of a cowboy. For a moment Rocket stood motionless.
Then, whether because of Blake's weight or the fact that he was a
stranger, all the beast's newly acquired docility vanished. He began
to plunge and buck even more violently than when first mounted by
Ashton.

Half a hundred Stockchuteites--all the residents of the town and
several floaters--had come down to inspect the palatial private car
and its passengers. At Rocket's first leap these highly interested
spectators broke into a murmur of joyful anticipation. They were about
to see the millionaire tenderfoot pull leather.

Yet somehow the event failed to transpire. Blake sat the flat saddle
as if glued fast to it. His knees and legs were crushing against the
sides of the leaping, whirling beast with the firmness of an iron
vise. He held both hands upraised, away from the "leather."

Presently Rocket's efforts began to flag. Instead of seeking to quiet
the frantic beast, Blake began to whoop and to strike him with his
hat. Thus taunted, Rocket resorted to his second trick. He took the
bit in his teeth and started to bolt. The crowd scattered before
the rush of the runaway. But they need not have moved. Blake
reached down on each side of the beast's outstretched neck and
pulled. Tough-mouthed as he was, Rocket could not resist that
powerful grip. His head was drawn down and backwards until his trumpet
nostrils blew against his deep chest. After half a dozen wild plunges,
he was forced to a stand, snorting but subdued.

"That's some riding, Miss Chuckie!" called the burly sheriff of the
county. "Your guest forks a hawss like a buster."

The girl rode forward beside Blake, her face radiant. She paid him the
highest of complimen