he arrived at the corrals, three of the boys, under Jake's
superintendence, were cutting out a big, raw-boned, mud-brown mare
from a bunch of about sixty colts.

She stood well over sixteen hands--a clumsy, big-footed, mean-looking,
clean-limbed lady, rough-coated, and scored all over with marks of
"savaging." She was fiddle-headed and as lean as a hay-rake, but in
build she was every inch a grand piece of horse-flesh. And Tresler was
sufficient horseman to appreciate her lines, as well as the vicious,
roving eye which displayed the flashing whites at every turn.

Jacob Smith was after her with a rope, and the onlookers watched his
lithe, active movements as he followed her, wildly racing round and
round the corral seeking a means of escape.

Suddenly the man made a dart in to head her off. She turned to
retreat, but the other two were there to frustrate her purpose. Just
for a second she paused irresolutely; then, lowering her head and
setting her ears back, she came open-mouthed for Jacob. But he
anticipated her intention, and, as she came, sprang lightly aside,
while she swept on, lashing out her heels at him as she went. It was
the opportunity the man sought, and, in the cloud of dust that rose in
her wake, his lariat shot out low over the ground. The next moment she
fell headlong, roped by the two forefeet, and all three men sprang in
to the task of securing her.

It was done so quickly that Tresler had hardly realized her capture
when Jake's harsh voice rang out--

"That's your mare, Tresler!" he cried; "guess that plug of yours'll do
for fancy ridin'. You'll break this one to handlin' cattle. You're a
tolerable weight, but she's equal to it." He laughed, and his laugh
sent an angry flush into the other's face. "Say," he went on, in
calmly contemptuous tones; "she's wild some. But she's been saddled
before. Oh, yes, she ain't raw off the grass. You, comin' from down
east, can mebbe ride. They mostly reckon to be able to ride till they
come along to these parts."

Tresler understood the man's game; he also understood and fully
appreciated Joe Nelson's warning. He glanced at the saddle still
hanging on the corral wall. It would be simple suicide for him to
attempt to ride an outlaw with a saddle fit for a boy of fifteen. And
it was Jake's purpose, trading on his ignorance of such matters, to
fool him into using a saddle that would probably rupture him.

"I presume she's the worst outlaw on the ranch," he re