ir a squeaky voice came to him: "C-clamp
yore jaw, you worm! You been given dominion." And after that, a moment
later, "... made in the image of God."

Unsteadily he rose. The eyes of the Slash Lazy D riders watched him
relentlessly and yet curiously. Would he quit? Or would he go through?

He had an odd feeling that his body was a thing detached from himself. It
was full of aches and pains. Its legs wobbled as he moved. Its head
seemed swollen to twice the normal size. He had strangely small control
over it. When he walked, it was jerkily, as a drunk man sometimes does.
His hand caught at the fence to steady himself. He swayed dizzily. A
surge of sickness swept through his organs. After this he felt better. He
had not consciously made up his mind to try again, but he found himself
moving toward the sorrel. This time he could hardly drag his weight into
the saddle.

The mind of a bronco is unfathomable. This one now pitched weakly once or
twice, then gave up in unconditional surrender. Bob's surprise was
complete. He had expected, after being shaken violently, to be flung into
the mire again. The reaction was instantaneous and exhilarating. He
forgot that he was covered with mud and bruises, that every inch of him
cried aloud with aches. He had won, had mastered a wild outlaw horse as
he had seen busters do. For the moment he saw the world at his feet. A
little lower than the angels, he had been given dominion.

He rode to the gate and opened it. Hawks was looking at him, a puzzled
look in his eyes. He had evidently seen something he had not expected to
see.

Harshaw had ridden up during the bronco-busting. He spoke now to Bob.
"You'll cover Beaver Creek to-day--you and Buck."

Something in the cattleman's eye, in the curtness of his speech, brought
Dillon back to earth. He had divined that his boss did not like him, had
employed him only because Blister Haines had made a personal point of it.
Harshaw was a big weather-beaten man of forty, hard, keen-eyed, square as
a die. Game himself, he had little patience with those who did not stand
the acid test.

Bob felt himself shrinking up. He had not done anything after all,
nothing that any one of these men could not do without half trying. There
was no way to wipe out his failure when a real ordeal had confronted him.
What was written in the book of life was written.

He turned his pony and followed Hawks across the mesa.

CHAPTER XVIII

THE FIRST DAY