When Adan saw the procession start in his direction he sat down on a
stone to rest, and when it reached him he obeyed orders and sprang on
the mustang's back as Roldan slipped off.

"That was well done, my friend," he said approvingly. "I could see it
all; but I thought my eyes would fly out of my head."

Roldan walked cautiously up to his prize and attempted to pat it gently
on the head. But it was some moments before he was able to touch the
beast, who was sulky, cross, and frightened. When he did he swiftly
loosened the lariat, and this procured him a meed of favour. The horse
then allowed himself to be patted all down the side and back, nor once
raised his hoof.

Suddenly Roldan sprang to his back, gripping the mane with his hands,
the flanks with his knees. But this was one liberty too much. The horse
stood on his hind legs, made as if to go over backward, then suddenly
stiffened all four legs and sprang up and down as automatically as if
worked by a spring. Roldan was now in his element. He had broken in more
than one bucking horse. He remained as immovable as a fly on the top of
a coach, only giving an occasional prick with his spur to madden the
animal and wear him out the sooner.

Roldan had cast the lariat from the animal's neck as soon as he mounted,
and it was well that he had, for his quarry made a sudden dash and did
not stop for half a mile,--when he paused on his forefeet, waving his
hind in the air.

But still Roldan kept his seat, Adan shouting: "Bravo! Bravo!" by way of
encouragement.