a horse of bad temper. However, the loss of that hundred dollars and
the humiliation which accompanied it, weighed heavily on the saloon
owner's mind.

"I'll take you," he said.

A high, thrilling whistle came faintly from the distance.

"That fellow on the black horse down the road," said Lee Haines, "I
guess he's the one that can hit the four dollars? Ha! ha! ha!"

"Sure," grinned Silent, "listen to his whistle! We'll see if we can
drag another bet out of the bar-keep if the roan doesn't hurt him too
bad. Look at him now!"

Morgan was having a bad time getting his foot in the stirrup, for
the roan reared and plunged. Finally two men held his head and the
saloon-keeper swung into the saddle. There was a little silence. The
roan, as if doubtful that he could really have this new burden on his
back, and still fearful of the rope which had been lately tethering
him, went a few short, prancing steps, and then, feeling something
akin to freedom, reared straight up, snorting. The crowd yelled with
delight, and the sound sent the roan back to all fours and racing down
the road. He stopped with braced feet, and Morgan lurched forwards on
the neck, yet he struck to his seat gamely. Whistling Dan was not a
hundred yards away.

Morgan yelled and swung the quirt. The response of the roan was
another race down the road at terrific speed, despite the pull of
Morgan on the reins. Just as the running horse reached Whistling Dan,