Two months or more had passed since Clint and Smoky had met in the dust of the bare corral. In that time the man and horse'd had fights, some had been mighty wicked, and the wild horse would of killed the man too if the chance had come, but all thru them fights the man had won,--slow and easy, but he'd won. Then gradually Smoky begin to get confidence in the human, and then a liking; he'd got to looking for his company and would nicker with a glad feeling as he'd see that human come towards him of evenings, and he'd go the length of his picket rope to meet him. Steady good treatment from the rider, no matter what the horse done, had won that pony's heart, till the little horse could near be seen smiling with the happy feeling that was his every time Clint came, saddled him, and rode him out for a little play with the rope and critter. That's the way Smoky's feelings had come to be for the bow legged rider, and taking all as was, it's no wonder the horse showed fight when a strange human appeared. In his life Smoky had seen no other but Clint; he knowed _him_, but he didn't know the others, and he had no more love for them than he had when he was first run in from his free range. Them others was still enemies to him, and right then when that pony felt his pardner was depending on him most, he was sure ready to paw the daylight out of that stranger if he came any closer. He was his enemy, and according to his way of thinking, he was or should be Clint's enemy too. Jeff stood there figgering for quite a spell a trying to digest and believe what that pony showed, it couldn't come to him to hurt or kill such a horse so as to get the man, and he'd just decided to get his rope, throw a loop over his head and snub him close to the corral, when the rider begin to show signs of life. "Come to, Clint," hollered the cowman as he noticed the rider move, "and get off that horse." Clint raised his head some at the sound of the voice, and as Jeff kept a speaking to him he made a big effort to understand and try to do as he was told. Pain showed in his face as he tried to straighten himself in the saddle, and as Jeff feared that the rider would lose consciousness again he hollered at him not to try to straighten up, but just slide off and hang on. With a lot of pain and time and coaching from Jeff, Clint finally managed to raise one leg over the cantle of the saddle and let himself slide to the ground. Smoky stood still as a statue and as solid, his eyes was on Jeff with a steady warning for him to keep his distance--and Jeff did. [Illustration: Smoky's eyes was on Jeff with a steady warning in 'em for him to keep his distance--and Jeff did.] "Hang on to the saddle," coached Jeff, "try and get the horse thru the gate in the corral, and I'll close the gate on him."