nothing was prearranged and where both parties to the combat were in
deadly earnest. It was life "in the raw" and it stirred them to the
depths.

And now the horse was "all in." His flanks heaved with his tremendous
exertions, and he was dripping with sweat and foam. He had made a gallant
fight, but the odds were against him. His ears were no longer flattened
viciously against his head, but drooped forward piteously, and into his
eyes came the look that spelled surrender. He had learned the hard and
pathetic lesson of the brute creation, that man was the master. This
strange being, who so easily defied his strength and thwarted his
cunning, was stronger than he, and at last he knew it.

The rider, now that he had won, could afford to be kind. He patted his
mount's head and spoke to him soothingly. Then he drove him without
demur a few times more about the corral and dismounted. A stable
attendant led the conquered brute to a stall, and the victor, breathing a
little hard, but bearing no other traces of the struggle, repaired to the
fence, squatted on the top rail and lighted a cigarette.

"That was horsemanship, all right," breathed Tom in admiration.

"You bet it was," said Dick. "If I'd been insuring that fellow's life I'd
have wanted a premium of ninety-nine per cent."

"He earns his money," remarked Bert. "A man hasn't any chance to
'soldier' on a job like that."

Another cowboy took the place of the first one, and the scene was
repeated, in each case with variations that kept the interest of the boys