re, and broken horses were few and far between. With the
increasing need of troopers for the guerrilla raiding into which the
war was degenerating, with the inevitable losses of a long campaign,
mounts of any kind were scarce. Nevertheless, consternation had
descended upon the camp, one day, when three hundred kicking,
squealing American bronchos had been detrained and placed at their
service. The next day, casualties were frequent; on the day after
that, there was made announcement that mounted parade would be
omitted. Weldon read the notice, smiled and went in search of his
captain. He was tired of inaction, and he felt his muscles growing
soft. They hardened speedily, however.

Day after day, he went striding into the kraal whence, after a
skirmish which was more or less prolonged, he emerged astride a
mount which, with shrieking voice and rampant hoofs, gave notice to
all that such a liberty could not be permitted. Nevertheless, it was
permitted. Sometimes, the final contest took place miles away from
the point of its beginning. Sometimes horse and rider settled the
matter in the course of a few concentric circles of an hundred-yard
radius; sometimes it bucked; sometimes it rolled, and sometimes it
merely sat down upon its haunches, dog-wise, and refused to budge.
Almost invariably, it came out from the contest, unscarred save for
its dignity and its temper. Weldon's lips shut tight; but his eyes
rarely blazed. These wild, frightened creatures taxed his patience
and his resource; but they hardly touched his temper in the least.

"What's the use of thrashing a beast that's mad with terror?" he
answered one critical amateur who had watched the game from a safe
distance. "The creature is in a funk, as it is; there's no use in
adding to it. All I'm after is to teach 'em that saddles and bridles
don't bite. Treat 'em decently and sit tight, and they'll come right
and learn to trust you in the end."

And, as mount after mount was delivered over to the waiting
authorities, it came to be a matter of general belief that the
regimental rough-rider knew his business, albeit he accomplished it
more by dint of urging than by many blows. Six weeks of this work
had told upon him, told in the right direction. Under the brown
skin, the muscles stood out like knotted cords; his nerves were
steady; he ate like a wolf and slept the dreamless sleep of a
healthy child. To the outward eye, his face changed but little. Its
outlines wer