that the daring rider escaped death a dozen times almost by a miracle. All that they had ever seen in Wild West shows seemed pale and weak by comparison with this fight out in the open, where 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 at fever heat. The time slipped by so rapidly that they were genuinely astonished when the blowing of a horn announced that it was time for dinner.

Sandy approached them as they were turning away reluctantly.

"I'd shore like to have you young fellers take dinner with us at the bunkhouse, if you care to," he said. "I'd like to have the boys get acquainted with yer. Maybe we won't have all the trimmin's that you'd get at the boss's table, but I guess we can manage to fill yer up."

"That's a pretty big contract, Sandy," laughed Bert; "but we'll be only too glad to come. Just let me speak to Mrs. Melton, so that she won't wait for us and we'll be with you in a jiffy."

Mrs. Melton smilingly acquiesced, and Melton himself, who knew how much of the boys' enjoyment of their visit would depend upon friendly relations with the men about the ranch, gave his hearty approval.

A dozen or more of the cowboys were at the house when they arrived, all ravenous for "grub." Outside of the door was a broad bench on which was a basin, which the men in turn replenished from a hogshead standing near, and in which they plunged their hands and faces, emerging dripping to dry themselves on a roller towel behind the door. The boys did the same, and as they came in were introduced by Sandy to the rest of the men. There was a breezy absence of formality that was most refreshing after the more or less artificial life of the East, and the boys warmed at once toward these hardy specimens of manhood, who looked them straight in the eyes and crushed their hands in their hearty grip. This wild, free spirit of the plains was akin to their own, and although their mode of life had been so different, a subtle free masonry told them that in substance they were members of the same brotherhood.

The cowboys also were "sizing up" the newcomers. Physically they had no criticism to make. These stalwart, athletic young fellows were splendid specimens, who looked as though they were fully capable of giving a good account of themselves in a tussle. Most of them had heard in a more or less fragmentary way about the adventure in Mexico, and Melton's unstinted praise of them had gone a long way in their favor. Still, that had been a scrap with "greasers," and the contemptuous attitude that most of them held toward the men south of the Rio Grande, led them to attach less value to the exploit. Then, too, when all was said and done, these visitors were "tender-feet," and as such would bear watching. So that, while perfectly free and friendly and admitting that they were a "likely bunch," they were inclined to reserve judgment, and observe them further, before admitting them fully into their fraternity.

The meal proceeded amid a clatter of dishes and a buzz of conversation, abounding in rough jests and repartee. The boys took their part in frank, good fellowship and were hearty in their praises of the hard riding they had seen that morning. The ranchmen deprecated this as only "part of the day's work," but were pleased none the less at the sincere appreciation.

The meal, although, as Sandy had hinted, wanting in "frills," was well cooked and abundant, and the food disappeared before those healthy appetites in a way that would have struck terror to the heart of a boarding-house keeper. Before it was quite over, a belated cowboy galloped in from town. He dismounted, threw his saddlebags on the bench, and, after sousing his heated face in the friendly basin, sat down to the table and proceeded to make amends for lost time.

"Bring a paper with you, Pete?" asked one of his friends as he pushed back his chair and lighted his pipe.

"Yes," answered Pete between mouthfuls. "Got a copy of the Helena 'Record.' You'll find it in the saddlebag."

The first speaker rose leisurely, hunted up the newspaper and seated himself on the step of the bunkhouse. He looked over it carelessly for a moment and then a headline caught his attention. He read on for a few lines and then called to his mates.

"Look here, fellows," he exclaimed. "I see that they've jugged 'Red' Thompson and 'Shag' Leary. Caught them trying to hold up a train."