"Wal, he can sling a rope, too, an' thet evens up," added Jim Montana.

Just at this moment Jack Belllounds appeared upon the scene. The cowboys
took no notice of him. Jim was bandaging a leg of his horse; Bludsoe was
wearily gathering up his saddle and trappings; Lem was giving his tired
mustang a parting slap that meant much. Moore evidently awaited a fresh
mount. A Mexican lad had come in out of the pasture leading several
horses, one of which was the mottled white mustang that Moore rode most
of the time.

Belllounds lounged forward with interest as Moore whistled, and the
mustang showed his pleasure. Manifestly he did not like the Mexican boy
and he did like Moore.

"Spottie, it's drag yearlings around for you to-day," said the cowboy,
as he caught the mustang. Spottie tossed his head and stepped high until
the bridle was on. When the saddle was thrown and strapped in place the
mustang showed to advantage. He was beautiful, but not too graceful or
sleek or fine-pointed or prancing to prejudice any cowboy against his
qualities for work.

Jack Belllounds admiringly walked all around the mustang a little too
close to please Spottie.

"Moore, he's a fair-to-middling horse," said Belllounds, with the air of
judge of horseflesh. "What's his name?"

"Spottie," replied Moore, shortly, as he made ready to mount.