ducation, from the time they run loose on the range until the time
when, branded, corralled, broken, and saddled, they pick their way
under guidance over a bad piece of trail, tends to develop their
self-reliance. They learn to think for themselves.

To begin with two misconceptions, merely by way of clearing the ground:
the Western horse is generally designated as a "bronco." The term is
considered synonymous of horse or pony. This is not so. A horse is
"bronco" when he is ugly or mean or vicious or unbroken. So is a cow
"bronco" in the same condition, or a mule, or a burro. Again, from
certain Western illustrators and from a few samples, our notion of the
cow-pony has become that of a lean, rangy, wiry, thin-necked, scrawny
beast. Such may be found. But the average good cow-pony is apt to be
an exceedingly handsome animal, clean-built, graceful. This is
natural, when you stop to think of it, for he is descended direct from
Moorish and Arabian stock.

Certain characteristics he possesses beyond the capabilities of the
ordinary horse. The most marvelous to me of these is his
sure-footedness. Let me give you a few examples.

I once was engaged with a crew of cowboys in rounding up mustangs in
southern Arizona. We would ride slowly in through the hills until we
caught sight of the herds. Then it was a case of running them down and
heading them off, of turning the herd, milling it, of rushing it while
confused across country and into the big corrals. The surface of the
ground was composed of angular volcanic rocks about the size of your
two fists, between which the bunch-grass sprouted. An Eastern rider
would ride his horse very gingerly and at a walk, and then thank his
lucky stars if he escaped stumbles. The cowboys turned their mounts
through at a dead run. It was beautiful to see the ponies go, lifting
their feet well up and over, planting them surely and firmly, and
nevertheless making speed and attending to the game. Once, when we had
pushed the herd up the slope of a butte, it made a break to get through
a little hog-back. The only way to head it was down a series of rough
boulder ledges laid over a great sheet of volcanic rock. The man at
the hog-back put his little gray over the ledges and boulders, down the
sheet of rock,--hop, slip, slide,--and along the side hill in time to
head off the first of the mustangs. During the ten days of riding I
saw no horse fall. The animal I rode, Button by