By this time two Mexican riders, who had started in pursuit of the
runaway animal, had cornered it in an angle of the high fence
surrounding the camp-grounds, flung their ropes over its head, and were
dragging it back, choking and gasping for breath, to the scene of its
recent triumph.

"Hold on!" cried Ridge in Spanish, running towards them as he spoke,
and shouting commands in their own language.

Slipping the cruel ropes from the neck of the quivering mare, that
stared at him with wild eyes, Ridge petted and soothed her, at the same
time talking gently in Spanish, a tongue that she showed signs of
understanding by pricking forward her shapely ears. After a little
Ridge led the animal to a watering-trough, where she drank greedily,
and then into camp, where he begged a handful of sugar from one of the
cooks.

Some ten minutes later, without having yet attempted to gain the
saddle, he led the mare back to the place from which they had started,
all the while talking to her and stroking her glossy neck.

"Why don't you ride?" growled Silas Pine, who still remained on the
scene of his recent discomfiture, and had watched Ridge's movements
curiously. "Any fool can lead a hoss to water and back again."

For answer Ridge gathered up the bridle reins, and placing his hands on
pommel and cantle, sprang lightly into the saddle.

The mare laid her ears flat back and began to tremble with rage, but