And, that's how come, when he started out after Smoky again in the fall he knowed just where to place a relay string of ponies. At the other end was a trap corral and well hid--Then the breed spotted the horse late one afternoon, and fell in behind him and the other wild ones he was with. It had been a long chase, the wild ones had dropped out of the run one by one and branched to one side, but Smoky and the rest of the strongest had kept on right along on the trail where the breed had stationed his fresh relay horses. Finally, and as the breed kept a coming in on 'em with fresh horses, the strongest of the mustangs kept a branching out, but Smoky had kept on straight ahead, till, leg weary and staggering, he'd found himself in the wings of the trap corral, and then inside, past being able to see the grinning halfbreed who'd closed the gate on him. * * * * * A few days went by when Smoky seemed in a trance. He remembered some of being led and jerked all the way back to the breed's hangout, of being saddled the next day and jerked around some more, and then rode out and with spur and quirt, made to trot around. He didn't realize the breed had set on him or he didn't seem to care. The little hay that was throwed out to him wasn't noticed, and hardly did he drink,--only if by chance he happened to mope around the corral and find himself standing in the stream that was running in one side of it. There was everything about the horse to indicate that in a few more days he'd be laying down, never to get up no more; his trail seemed fast coming to an end, and the heart that was left in him had shrunk till nary a beat of it could be felt. The breed kept a riding him out, thinking he at last and for sure had the horse right where he wanted him. "I'll make a good horse out of you, you scrub," he'd say as he'd beat him over the head with his quirt and at the same time cut him with the spur. Smoky had seemed to feel neither the quirt nor the spur. He didn't flinch nor even bat an eye as both would come down on him and leave the marks. There seemed to be no sign of hopes or life left in the horse, and the abuse went on till, finally, one day the breed happened to cut the horse a little deeper and in a more sensitive place. That cut had stirred the pony's shrunk up heart, and a faint spark had showed in his eyes for a second. The next day Smoky even snorted a little as the breed walked into the corral, and he tried to buck some as he climbed into the saddle. The breed was surprised at the new show of spirit, and remarked as he took down his quirt: "I'll take _that_ out of you."