Smoky had been on the picket rope about a week. In that time Clint had kept his eye on him thru the day while working in the corral and spent a couple of hours with him every evening. The little horse had got used to the rope and wouldn't pay no attention to it no more, but as for the cowboy he was just neutral, it was hard for him to shed off the fear of the human and which he'd inherited,--that human was still a mighty big mystery to him even after a week's acquaintance. It'd done him no harm but his wild instinct kept a warning him to expect most anything. The power that two legged crethure had over him kept him leary and watching for the next move, whatever that would be--and that's why Smoky was still neutral, his confidence for the human hadn't come to the top as yet and not a move did that cowboy make which he didn't see. "You sure got your eye on me, aint you, little horse?" Clint would say, "but that's the way I want you to be," he'd go on, "for the more you watch the more you'll see and the quicker you'll learn." Smoky did watch and see and learn, and then one evening Clint untied the long picket rope from the log and started leading him towards the corral; the little horse was broke to lead by then and he followed easy enough. His heart was a thumping in wonder of what was due to happen as the cowboy led him thru the big pole gate, he stepped high and careful and his eyes took in everything that looked suspicious,--a slicker hanging over one side of the corral made him snort and try to pull away. Clint talked to him, and kept on a leading him thru another gate into another smaller and round corral. A big snubbing post stuck up in the center of it and by that post was a big brown and shiny hunk of leather. It was Clint's saddle. * * * * * "Well now, little horse, the performance is about to begin, you're going to get your first smell of saddle leather." Clint had turned as he spoke and begin rubbing on Smoky's forehead. For once since Smoky had been caught his attention wasn't on the cowboy, that hunk of leather was drawing all his interest and ears pointed straight at it, eyes a shining, he snorted his suspicions and dislike for the looks of the contraption that was laying there, waiting it seemed like to jump at him and eat him alive. "Look, snort, and paw at it all you want," says the cowboy. "You'll get well acquainted with it before you get thru, and I wont rush the acquaintance either." Clint didn't. He kept Smoky to within a few feet of the saddle and grinning some at the pony's actions kept a rubbing him back of the ears while the investigation was going on. Smoky was for getting away from there but Clint was persuading him to stick around close, and there was nothing for him to do but just that.