becomes paramount, and the pony proceeds to carry out the idea.

At first it moves quietly and the rider congratulates himself on having
convinced the animal that resistance will be ill vain. But just as he
begins to do this the animal gets down its head, arches up its back,
something after the manner of an angry cat, leaps into the air and comes
down on the ground with its four legs drawn together under it, perfectly
stiff and straight. The rider seldom knows how it happened. He only
knows that it felt as though a cannon ball had struck him, and that he
fell off most ungracefully.

A pony never bucks viciously when a cowboy is riding it. It has learned
by long experience that the process is distinctly unprofitable. Breaking
in a pony and convincing it that the way of the transgressor is hard, is
one of the difficulties of prairie life. When, however, it is once
accomplished, an almost invaluable assistant has been secured. The
staying powers of the cow pony are almost without limit. He will carry
his master 100 miles in a day, apparently with very little fatigue. In
point of speed he may not be able to compete with his better bred
Eastern cousin, but in point of distance covered he entirely outclasses
him. Assuming an easy gait within its powers of endurance, a pony of the
prairie will keep it up almost indefinitely. At the end of a very long
ride, the man is generally more fatigued than his steed. The latter,
after being relieved of its saddle and bridle, rolls vigorously to get
rid of the stiffness, and, after an hour or two, is apparently in as
good condition as ever.

The charm connected with cowboy life is found in the disregard of strict
rules of etiquette and ceremony, and in the amount of fun which is
considered to be in place around the prairie fire. We have already seen