this unique camp, the former suddenly leaped aside with an exclamation
of alarm. An unknown beast, fortunately chained, had made a spring at
him, with sharp claws barely missing his leg.

"You mustn't mind a little thing like that," laughed Rollo, with the
air of one to whom such incidents were of every-day occurrence. "It's
only 'Josephine,' a young mountain lion from Arizona, and our
regimental mascot. She's very playful."

"So it seems," replied Ridge, "and I suppose I shall learn to like her
if I join the regiment; but the introduction was a little startling."

A short distance beyond the camp was gathered a confused group of
officers, troopers, men in citizen's dress, some of whom were
swart-faced Mexicans, and horses. To this Rollo led the way; and, as
the new-comers drew near they saw that for a moment all eyes were
directed towards a man engaged in a fierce struggle with a horse. The
animal was a beautiful chestnut mare with slender limbs, glossy coat,
and superb form. Good as she was to look upon, she was just then
exhibiting the spirit of a wild-cat or anything else that is most
savage and untamable, and was attempting, with desperate struggles, to
throw and kill the man who rode her. He was our recent acquaintance,
Silas Pine, bronco-buster from the Bad Lands, who, with clinched teeth
and rigid features, was in full practice of his chosen profession.

All at once, no one could tell how, but with a furious effort the mare
shook off her hated burden, and, with a snort of triumph, dashed madly
away. The man was flung heavily to the ground, where he lay motionless.

"That's my horse," remarked Rollo, quietly, "and Sile undertook to