time the rancher made a move
forward the herd found it convenient likewise to move, and to the limit
of the corral fence. Once clear around the yard the rider humored them;
and Scotty, the spectator, felt sure he must be observed. But Ben never
looked outside the fence.

Starting to make the circle a second time, the rancher spoke a single
word to the little mustang and they moved ahead at a gallop. Instantly
responsive, the herd likewise broke into a lope, maintaining their lead.
Twice, three times, faster and faster, the rider and the riderless
completed the circle, the hard ground ringing with the din, the dust
rising in a filmy cloud; then of a sudden the figure on the mustang
passed from inaction into motion, the left hand on the reins tightened
and turned the pony's head to the side, straight across the diameter of
the circle. Simultaneously the right dropped to the lariat coiled on the
pummel of the saddle, loosed it, and swung the noose at the end freely
in air. On galloped the broncos, unmindful of the trick--on around the
limiting fence, until suddenly they found almost in their midst the
animal, man, whom they so feared, whom they were trying so to escape.
Then for a moment there was scattering, reversal, confusion, a denser
cloud of dust; but for one of their number, the buckskin, it was too
late. Ben Blair rose in his stirrups, the rawhide rope that had been
circling above his sombrero shot out, spread, dropped over the uplifted
yellow head. The little mustang the man rode recognized the song of the
lariat; well he knew what would follow. In anticipation he stopped dead;
his front legs stiffened. There was a shock, a protest of straining
leather which Scotty could hear clear beyond the corral, as, checked
under speed, the buckskin rose on his hind-feet and all but lost his
balance. That instant was Blair's opportunity. He turned his mustang
swiftly and headed straight for the centre-post, dragging the struggling
and half-strangled bronco; he rode around the post, sprang from the
saddle, took a skilful half-hitch in the lariat--and the buckskin was a
prisoner.

Scotty polished his glasses excitedly. He was wondering how the sleek
young men with whom he would soon be mingling in the city would go at a
job like that; and he smiled absently.

To "snub" the bronco up to the post so that he could scarcely turn his
head was an easy matter. To exchange the bridle to the new mount was
also comparatively simple. T