k-yard full of shaggy little ponies. The sight of them drove
every other thought out of my head.

"Mustangs!" I exclaimed.

"Sure. Can you ride?"

"Oh yes. I have a horse at home.... What wiry little fellows! They're so
wild-looking."

"You pick out the one as suits you, an' I'll step into Cless's here.
He's the man who owns this bunch."

It did not take me long to decide. A black mustang at once took my eye.
When he had been curried and brushed he would be a little beauty. I was
trying to coax him to me when Buell returned with a man.

"Thet your pick?" he asked, as I pointed. "Well, now, you're not so much
of a tenderfoot. Thet's the best mustang in the lot. Cless, how much for
him, an' a pack-pony an' pack-saddle?"

"I reckon twenty dollars'll make it square," replied the owner.

This nearly made me drop with amazement. I had only about seventy-five
dollars left, and I had been very much afraid that I could not buy the
mustang, let alone the pack-pony and saddle.

"Cless, send round to Smith for the lad's outfit, an' saddle up for him
at once." Then he turned to me. "Now some grub, an' a pan or two."

Having camped before, I knew how to buy supplies. Buell, however, cut
out much that I wanted, saying the thing to think of was a light pack
for the pony.

"I'll hurry to the hotel and get my things," I said, "and meet you here.
I'll not be a moment."

But Buell said it would be better for him to go with me, though he did
not explain. He kept with me, still he remained in the office while I
went up-stairs. Somehow this suited me, for I did not want him to see
the broken window. I took a few things from my grip and rolled them in a
bundle. Then I took a little leather case of odds and ends I had always
carried when camping and slipped it into my pocket. Hurrying down-stairs
I left my grip with the porter, wrote and mailed a postal card to my
father, and followed the impatient Buell.

"You see, it's a smart lick of a ride to Penetier, and I want to get
there before dark," he explained, kindly.

I could have shouted for very glee when I saw the black mustang saddled
and bridled.

"He's well broke," said Cless. "Keep his bridle down when you ain't
in the saddle. An' find a patch of grass fer him at night. The pony'll
stick to him."

Cless fell to packing a lean pack-pony.

"Watch me do this," said he; "you'll hev trouble if you don't git the
hang of the diamondhitch."

I watched him set the little woo