Hitched to a post near the wall was a fat, undersized animal, black as jet, and with more mane and tail than was at all reasonable. He carried a Mexican saddle with wooden stirrups and a tremendous curb-bit bridle. In front of the saddle were pistol holsters, and behind it hung an ammunition case, as if Ned were about to become a trooper. He went to examine the holsters, and found that each of them contained a large horse-pistol with a flintlock. He also found powder and bullets in the case, and he wondered whether or not he would ever be able to shoot anybody with one of those heavy, long-barrelled things without having something to rest it on. "I practised for an hour once in a pistol-gallery," he remarked, "but it wasn't with anything like that." "You didn't hit centre even then, eh?" laughed the senor. "Well, not many men can do much with them, but they are better than nothing. They are too heavy for a hand like yours. Here is your machete. Put it on." Ned felt a queer tingle all over him, as he took the weapon and hitched it at his belt. Then he drew it from the sheath and looked at it, swinging it up and down to feel its weight. It was a straight, one-edged blade, with a sharp point, and a brass basket hilt, and he remarked: "Senor Zuroaga, I could hit with that, I guess." His face had flushed fiery red, and it could be seen, from his handling of the machete, that his muscles were unusually strong for his size and age. The senor nodded his approbation, as he remarked: "I think you will do. There is fight in you, but I hope we shall have no fighting to do just now. I shall try to find a safe road home." "A fellow could cut down bushes with this thing," said Ned. "That's exactly what our rancheros use them for," replied the senor. "They will do almost anything with a machete. They will cut their way through thick chaparral, kill and cut up beef cattle, split wood, fight men or animals, and on the whole it's about the most useful tool there is in a Mexican camp or hacienda." "What's that?" asked Ned. "Any kind of farm with a house on it," said the senor. "You may have to learn all about haciendas before you get home." "Just what I'd like to do," said Ned. "I'll learn how to ride, too. How soon are we to set out?" "Not till after dark," said the senor. "But you need not be in any hurry to get into the saddle. You will have quite enough of it before you get out of it again. There is a long ride before us to-night." "I'm ready," replied Ned, but nevertheless he looked at that Mexican saddle with doubtful eyes, as if he were thinking that it might possibly prove to be a place of trial for a beginner.