on Kalman's body and soul.
From the very first the boy had no difficulty in mastering the art
of sticking on a broncho's back, partly because he was entirely
without fear, but largely because he had an ear and an eye for
rhythm in sound and in motion. He conceived clearly the idea by
watching French as he loped along on his big iron grey, and after
that it was merely a matter of translating the idea into action.
Every successful rider must first conceive himself as a rider.
In two weeks' time Kalman could sit the buckskin and send him
across the prairie, swinging him by the neck guide around badger
holes and gopher holes, up and down the steep sides of the Night
Hawk ravine, without ever touching leather. The fearless ease he
displayed in mastering the equestrian art did more than anything
else to win him his place in the old half-breed Mackenzie's affection.

The pride of the ranch was Black Joe, a Percheron stallion that
French a year before had purchased, with the idea of improving his
horse stock to anticipate the market for heavy horses, which he
foresaw the building of railroads would be sure to provide. Black
Joe was kept in a small field that took in a bit of the bluff and
ran down to the lake, affording shelter, drink, and good feeding.

Dismay, therefore, smote the ranch, when Mackenzie announced one
morning that Black Joe had broken out and was gone.

"He can't be far away," said French; "take a circle round towards
the east. He has likely gone off with Garneau's bunch."

But at noon Mackenzie rode back to report that nowhere could the
stallion be seen, that he had rounded up Garneau's ponies without
coming across any sign of the stallion.

"I am afraid he has got across the Eagle," said French, "and if
he has once got on to those plains, there will be the very deuce
to pay. Well, get a move on, and try the country across the creek
first. No, hold on. I'll go myself. Throw the saddle on Roanoke;
I'll put some grub together, for there's no time to be lost."

Kalman started up and stood eagerly expectant. French glanced at him.

"It will be a hard ride, Kalman; I am a little afraid."

"Try me, sir," said the boy, who had unconsciously in conversation
with French dropped much of his street vernacular, and had adopted
to a large extent his master's forms of speech.

"All right, boy. Get ready and come along."

While the horses were being saddled, French rolled up into two
neat packs a couple of double