"'Twasn't much then. We made it to th' gate on our horses. He could see us, but we knew after bein' dried out that long he'd just naturally have to fill up. When I reached for th' gate, he made one move like he tried to get away but 'twas too late. We had him trapped. He was licked. He looked us over an' then went to lay down in th' water." He stroked the long, fine neck slowly. "After that 'twas easy. I knew he was more or less man even if he was horse. We put th' first rope on him he'd ever felt next mornin'. Of course, 'twas kind of a tournament for a while, but, finally we both tied on an' started home with him between us. He played around some, but finally let up; not licked, not discouraged, understand, but just as if he admitted we had one on him an' he was goin' to see our game through for curiosity. "We put him in th' round corral an' left him there for a straight month, foolin' with him every day, of course. Then I got up an' rode him. That's all there is to it. "He was my best friend th' minute I tied on to him; he is yet. We never had no trouble. I treat him square an' white. He's never tried to pitch with me, never has quit runnin' until I told him to, an', for my part, I've never abused him or asked him to go th' limit." He walked out to the corral then, horse following at his heels like a dog, nosing the big brown hand that swung against Bayard's thigh. "That's always been a lesson to me," Bruce said, on his return as he prepared to wash in the tin basin beside the wall. "Runnin' hog-wild never got him nothin' but enemies, never did him no good. He found out that it didn't pay, that men was too much for him, an' he's a lot happier, lot better off, lot more comfortable than he was when he was hellin' round with no restraint on him. He knows that. I can tell. "So,"--as he lathered his hands with soap--"I've always figured that when us men got runnin' too loose we was makin' mistakes, losin' a lot. It may seem a little hard on us to stop doin' what we've had a good time doin' for a while, but, when you stop to consider all sides, I guess there's about as much pleasure for us when we think of others as there is when we're so selfish that we don't see nothin' but our own desires." Lytton stirred uneasily in his chair and tossed his chin scornfully. "Don't you ever get tired playing the hero?" he taunted. "That's what you are, you know. You're the hero; I'm the villain. You're the one who's always saying the things heroes say in books. You're the one who's always right, while I'm always wrong. "You know, Bayard, when a man gets to be so damn heroic it's time he watched himself. I've never seen one yet whose foot didn't slip sooner or later. The higher you fly, understand, the harder you fall. You're pretty high; mighty superior to most of us. Look out!" The other regarded him a moment, cheeks flushing slowly under the taunt. "Lytton, if I was to ask a favor of you, would you consider it?"