“Who is this all-round crackerjack you're touting, Dick?” he asked significantly. France was puzzled. “Who is he? Why, he's Steve Fraser.” “I ain't asking you what his name is. I'm asking who he is. What does he do for a living? Who recommended him so strong to the boys that they take up with him so sudden?” “I don't care what he does for a living. Likely, he rides the range in Texas. When it comes to recommendations, he's got one mighty good one written on his face.” “You think so, do you?” “That's what I think, Jed. He's the goods--best of company, a straight-up rider, and a first-rate puncher. Ask any of the boys.” “I'm using my eyes, Dick. They tell me all I need to know.” “Well, use them to-morrow. He's going to take a whirl at riding Dead Easy. Next day he's going to take on Rocking Horse. If he makes good on them, you'll admit he can ride.” “I ain't saying he can't ride. So can you. If it's plumb gentle, I can make out to stick on a pony myself.” “Course you can ride. Everybody knows that. You're the best ever. Any man that can win the championship of Wyoming----But you'll say yourself them strawberry roans are wicked devils.” “He hasn't ridden them yet, Dick.” “He's going to.” “We'll be there to see it. Mebbe he will. Mebbe he won't. I've known men before who thought they were going to.” It was in no moment of good-natured weakness that Fraser had consented to try riding the outlaw horses. Nor had his vanity anything to do with it. He knew a time might be coming when he would need all the prestige and all the friendship he could earn to tide him over the crisis. Jed Briscoe had won his leadership, partly because he could shoot quicker and straighter, ride harder, throw a rope more accurately, and play poker better than his companions. Steve had a mind to show that he, too, could do some of these things passing well. Wherefore, he had let himself be badgered good-naturedly into trying a fall with these famous buckers. As the heavy work of the round-up was almost over, Dillon was glad to relax discipline enough to give the boys a little fun. The remuda was driven up while the outfit was at breakfast. His friends guyed Steve with pleasant prophecy. “He'll be hunting leather about the fourth buck!” “If he ain't trying to make of himse'f one of them there Darius Green machines!” suggested another. “Got any last words, Steve? Dead Easy most generally eats 'em alive,” Dick derided. “Sho! Cayn't you see he's so plumb scared he cayn't talk?” Fraser grinned and continued to eat. When he had finished he got his lariat from the saddle, swung to Siegfried's pony, and rode unobtrusively forward to the remuda. The horses were circling round and round, so that it was several minutes before he found a chance. When he did, the rope snaked forward and dropped over the head of the strawberry roan. The horse stood trembling, making not the least resistance, even while the ranger saddled and cinched.