rs. There
was a broad leather blind on the hacamore, which was of the best
plaited rawhide with a horsehair tie rope, but the little man did not
take advantage of it to subdue his mount. Instead he reached down for
his gaudy Navajo saddle blanket, offered it to the sorrel to smell,
and then slid it gently upon his back. But when he stooped for his
saddle the high-headed horse rebelled. With ears pricked suspiciously
forward and eyes protruding he glared at the clattering thing in
horror, snorting deep at every breath. But, though he was free-footed,
by some obsession of the mind, cunningly inculcated in his breaking,
the sorrel pony was afraid to move.

As the saddle was drawn toward him and he saw that he could not escape
its hateful embrace he leaned slowly back upon his haunches, grunting
as if his fore-feet, wreathed in the loose rope, were stuck in some
terrible quicksands from which he tried in vain to extricate them; but
with a low murmur of indifferent words his master moved the saddle
resolutely toward him, the stirrups carefully snapped up over the
horn, and ignoring his loud snorts and frenzied shakings of the head
laid it surely down upon his back. This done, he suddenly spoke
sharply to him, and with a final groan the beautiful creature rose up
and consented to his fate.

Hardy worked quickly now, tightening the cinch, lowering the
stirrups, and gathering up the reins. He picked up the rope, coiled it
deftly and tied it to the saddle--and now, relieved of the idea that
he was noosed, the pony began to lift his feet and prance, softly,
like a swift runner on the mark. At these signs of an early break
Creede mounted hurriedly and edged in, to be ready in case the sorrel,
like most half-broken broncos, tried to scrape his rider off against
the fence; but Hardy needed no wrangler to shunt him out the gate.
Standing by his shoulder and facing the rear he patted the sorrel's
neck with the hand that held the reins, while with his right hand he
twisted the heavy stirrup toward him stealthily, raising his boot to
meet it. Then like a flash he clapped in his foot and, catching the
horn as his fiery pony shot forward, he snapped up into the saddle
like a jumping jack and went flying out the gate.

"Well, the son of a gun!" muttered Creede, as he thundered down the
trail after him. "Durned if he can't ride!"

There are men in every cow camp who can rope and shoot, but the man
who can ride a wild horse can hold up