He wore a broad-brimmed California hat, and was dressed in a complete
suit of buckskin, beautifully trimmed and beaded. He saluted us, and
father invited him to sit down, which he did. After a few moments
conversation, he turned to me and said:

"Little one, I see you are working with your ponies. They are wild yet."

I had been petting Dolly and trying to break her, when my father called
me to come and look at the Californian.

"Yes," I replied, "and one of them never has been ridden."

"Well, I'll ride him for you;" and springing lightly to his feet, he
continued: "come on. Where is the animal?"

Accordingly we all went to the place where Prince was lariated. The
stranger untied the rope from the picket pin, and taking a half-loop
around the pony's nose, he jumped on his back.

In a moment he was flying over the prairie, the untamed steed rearing and
pitching every once in a while in his efforts to throw his rider; but the
man was not unseated. He was evidently an experienced horseman. I watched
his every movement. I was unconsciously taking another lesson in the
practical education which has served me so well through my life.

The Californian rode the pony until it was completely mastered, then
coming up to me, jumped to the ground, handed me the rope, and said:

"Here's your pony. He's all right now."