more to
be suspected. The chestnut bided his time; presently the torment would
begin.

The calm voice was proceeding: "Old sport, you and me are going to
stage a sure enough scrap right here and now. Speaking personal, I'd
like to take off the rope and go at you man to man with no saddle to
help me out. But if I did that I wouldn't have a ghost of a show. I'll
saddle you, right enough, but I'll ride you without spurs, and I'll
put a straight bit in your mouth--damn the Mexican soul of Cordova, I
see where he's sawed your mouth pretty near in two with his Spanish
contraptions! Without a quirt or spurs or a curb to choke you down,
you and me'll put on a square fight, so help me God! Because I think I
can beat you, old hoss. Here goes!"

The stallion listened to the soothing murmur, listened and waited, and
sure enough he had not long to stay in expectation. For Perris went
to the hole behind the rock and presently returned carrying that
flapping, creaking instrument of torture--a saddle.

To all that followed--the blind-folding, the bridling, the jerk which
urged him to his feet, the saddling,--Alcatraz submitted with the most
perfect docility. He understood now that he was to have a chance to
fight for his liberty on terms of equality and his confidence grew. In
the old days that consummate horseman, Manuel Cordova, had only
been able to keep his seat by underfeeding Alcatraz to the point of
exhaustion but now, from withers to fetlock joint, the chestnut was
conscious of a mighty harmony of muscles and reserves of energy. The
wiles which he had learned in many a struggle with the Mexican were
not forgotten and the tricks which had so often nearly unseated
the old master could now be executed with threefold energy. In the
meantime he waited quietly, assuming an air of the most perfect
meekness, with the toe of one hind foot pointed so that he sagged
wearily on that side, and with his head lowered in all the appearance
of mild subjection.

The cinches bit deep into his flesh. He tasted that horror of iron
in his mouth, with this great distinction: that whereas the bits of
Manuel Cordova had been heavy instruments of torture this was a light
thing, smooth and straight and without the wheel of spikes. The crisis
was coming. He felt the weight of the rider fall on the left stirrup,
the reins were gathered, then Perris swung lightly into the saddle and
leaning, snatched the blindfold from the eyes of the stallion.

One