built,
best-natured and most intelligent of any I have ever known. Many a
time, on long trips, has the other pony played completely out and
actually dropped on the road. But Punch seemed to be never tired. He was
a great pet too, and could be fondled to your heart's content. He had no
vice, yet was as full of mischief as he could possibly pack. His
mischief, or rather playfulness, finally cost him his life, as he once
got to teasing a bull, the bull charged, and that was his end.

It was with this team too that when driving in New Mexico through a
district where white men were seldom seen, but on a road which I had
often selected as a shorter route to my destination, I came on a Mexican
ill-treating his donkey. His actions were so deliberate as to rouse my
ire, and I got down, took the club from him and threatened castigation.
On proceeding on the road I passed another Mexican mounted on a horse
and carrying a rifle. Happening by-and-by to look back much was my
surprise, or perhaps not very much, to see the gun and horse handed over
to the first man, and himself mounted and galloping after me. Knowing at
once what it meant, that his game was to bushwhack me in the rough canon
immediately in front, I put the whip to my team to such good purpose
that we galloped through that canon as it had never been galloped
through before. I would have had no show whatever in such a place, and
so was extremely glad to find myself again in the open country.

Another time I hitched up another team, one of which, a favourite
mustang-chaser, had never been driven. We made some ten miles all right
till we came to the "jumping-off" place of the plains, a very steep,
long and winding descent. Just as we started down, Prince, the horse
mentioned, got his tail over the lines, and the ball began. We went down
that hill at racing speed, I having absolutely no control over the
terrified animals, which did not stop for many miles. Again, with the
same team I once started to Amarillo, being half a day ahead of the
steer herd. First evening I camped out at a water-hole and staked out
Prince with a long heavy rope and strong iron stake pin. The other horse
was hobbled with a rope hobble. Some wolves came in to water, and I was
lying on my bed looking at them when the horses suddenly stampeded, the
strong stake rope and pin not even checking Prince. They were gone and I
was afoot! Prince ran for forty miles to the ranch. The hobbled horse we
never saw