That was done in time, and as the gate was closed Clint's hands went limp and he fell to the ground. Lucky it was that Jeff could reach him thru the corral bars, but he had to do considerable manouvering even then to get the cowboy thru and under so as not to stir Smoky. And it was a mighty good thing for Jeff as he picked Clint up and started towards the house that there was bars high and strong between him and that pony, for as high and strong as that corral was Jeff worried some and, looking back over his shoulder as he went, wondered if it would hold him. * * * * * The sun had sunk away, and dark had come before Clint came to well enough so things was plain to him and he could talk. Jeff had made him as comfortable as was possible, boiled some "jerky" and made a strong broth which he was holding under Clint's nose for him to sniff at. That cowboy sniffed, looked around, and then said, "where's Smoky?" "If you mean that mouse colored fighting son of a gun of a horse you was on," says Jeff, "why he's in the corral, and a fretting his head that I'm going to eat you up." Clint couldn't quite get the meaning of that just then, and he asked, "I wonder if you wouldn't go take the saddle off of him and put him on the picket rope where he'd get something to eat. He's gentle, and you can handle him easy." Jeff snorted and laughed, "gentle,----? I wouldn't try to handle him if you'd give me this whole outfit, I'm not enough of a bronc fighter no more, and that aint all, that pony is just a hankering for me to stick my beezer thru that corral." Smoky circled around the corral not at all minding the saddle that was on him, he wasn't caring for any grass either, he was too peeved and restless. If Clint had been right side up and able, things would of been different and Smoky would of hardly even noticed the stranger.--There seems to be a heap of difference in the feelings of any thinking animal when a pardner is sick or dying,--the little horse knowed as well as any human that something had went wrong with his pardner, and the appearance of the stranger at such a time was worrying him. The next day was well along and the sun getting high, when Jeff helped Clint on his feet and half carried him towards the corral where Smoky had put in the night. Clint staggered on alone from the gate and the little horse nickering came to meet him,--his ears was all ahead and with his eyes a shining, he looked all interest and like he wanted to ask questions. He then spotted Jeff, and at the sight of him, his expression changed, his eyes showed fire, and his ears layed back on his neck.