Just how "good" this chance was to prove to Dave, the young cowboy little
dreamed.

"Here Kurd! Kurd!" he called, as he approached the horse. Dave wondered
how Mr. Bellmore had hit on that odd name. "Here, Kurd!" the youth called.

The horse, a beautiful and intelligent beast, raised his head, and looked
at Dave approaching on Crow.

"Here you are, old boy. Kurd!" called the young ranchman again.

The other pony, who had been cropping the grass, moved off a short
distance.

"That won't do!" Dave murmured. "If he once starts he'll keep going. Looks
as if he had speed, too, but I think you can beat him, Crow, old boy," and
he patted the neck of his faithful beast.

Kurd continued to amble slowly away. Then Dave thought of the sugar. He
took the lumps out of his pocket and held them in the palm of his hand, at
the same time bringing Crow to a stop.

Kurd raised his head, whinnied once or twice, stretched out his velvet
muzzle, as though to smell what Dave held out, and then came slowly toward
the youth.

"That's more like it," Dave murmured. "Now if you don't take a sudden
notion, and bolt off just as I reach for your reins, I'll be all right.
Steady boy! Come on Kurd!"