Smoky's mammy had no choice when that black stallion came and scattered them out to his liking that way. She was made to join that little bunch of his and she knowed better than try to do different; she knowed she'd only lose some hide in any attempt to get away and that in the long run she'd have to do as he pointed out. She was wise to the range and the ways of her kind, and even tho she was as strong for Smoky as Smoky was for her she didn't miss him so much as he did her. She felt in a way that he was now big and mighty able to take care of himself, and then there was other youngsters which called for all her attention. But it was different with Smoky, she was his mammy and there was none other that could take her place. He'd growed up at her side and even tho other little colts had come she was and always would be the mother he knowed when he was wobblety legged and needed her. Then one day and as time had wore on in lonesomeness that way, there came a short break in the monotony which helped Smoky forget some. Him and the buckskin had run acrost a little bunch of mares,--there was some little colts in the bunch, and a stud, a young stud. The big buckskin sized up the stud the same as he'd sized all the others he'd met, and as this young feller came up full of pride and confidence to meet the two strangers, the big buckskin found a flaw in him,--the flaw was nothing more or less than just _youth_, he showed it in every move he made and every action.--From past experience the buckskin had figgered youth and ignorance to go together, and that's what made it interesting. Interesting by the fact that thru youth and ignorance the young stallion wouldn't maybe be able to compete against the fighting ability of the buckskin, the younger horse hadn't as yet fought many battles, that the buckskin could feel at a glance of him. He didn't turn away like he'd done before,--as the stallion came on he just stood in his tracks and watched him. Smoky was doing the same. There's bowed necks as the three touch nostrils, there's some squealing and striking and then a kick is planted,--the young stud had started things. [Illustration: There's bowed necks as the three touch nostrils.] Smoky had caught the kick, which left him out a ways. In the meantime the buckskin followed up the lead and went at it from there. It was all a mighty fair exchange from the start, kicks and bites was averaging pretty well on both parties, and for a young horse that chestnut stud was sure doing well. All might of come to a draw and both fighters might of quit about the same time, if it hadn't been for Smoky. Smoky which had got to be pretty thick with the buckskin and had been a good pardner of his thru their lonesome roamings found it mighty natural like wanting to help when trouble came that way; besides he was holding a grudge against the stud for kicking him the way he did, and all them things together kinda had him worked up to mix in.