r the trees, along the corrals and fences, in and around the
stables, stood the ponies, heads tossing, bits jingling, stamping,
thoroughly alive to the importance of the festive occasion, and filling
the eye with an unforgettable picture--a living vignette of the old days
of the range and riata.

Mrs. Stone, Mrs. Marshall, Louise, Dr. Marshall, and Walter Stone were
among the earlier arrivals. A half-dozen men sprang to take their horses
as they rode up, but Collie gathered the bridle-reins and led the ponies
to the shade of the pepper trees. Then he wandered over to the corrals.
His eyes glowed as he watched the sleek ponies dodging, wheeling,
circling like a battalion, and led by a smooth-coated, copper-hued mare,
young, lithe, straight-limbed, and as beautifully rounded as a Grecian
bronze. He moistened his lips as he watched her. He pushed back his hat,
felt for tobacco and papers, and rolled a cigarette. This was the
renowned "Yuma colt," the outlaw. He wanted her. She was a horse in a
thousand.

In some strange way he was conscious that Louise stood beside him,
before he turned and raised his sombrero.

"More beautiful than strong men or beautiful women," said Louise.

"That's so, Miss Louise. Because they just live natural and act natural.
And that copper-colored mare,--she's only a colt yet,--there's a horse a
man would be willing to work seven years for like the man in the Bible
did for his wife."

Louise smiled. "Would you work seven years for her?" she asked.

"I would, if I had to," he said enthusiastically.

"Of course, because you really love horses, don't you?"

"Better than anything else. Of course, there are mean ones. But a real
good horse comes close to making an ordinary man feel ashamed of
himself. Why, see what a horse will do! He will go anywhere--work all
day and all night if he has to--run till he breaks his heart to save a
fellow's life, and always be a friend. A horse never acts like eight
hours was his day's work. He is willing at any time and all the
time--and self-respectin' and clean. I reckon a knowin' horse just plumb
loves a man that is good to him."

Louise, her gray eyes wide and pensive, gazed at the young cowboy. "How
old is the colt?" she asked.

"They say three years. But she's older than that in brains. She is
leading older horses than her."

"Then if you worked seven years for her, she would be ten years old
before you owned her."

"You caught me there. I didn't t