“I feel much easier in my mind now that I have three of the famous Texas Rangers to help me out,” he said with a kindly smile. “I hope we shall be able to live up to what the name stands for,” said Jack gravely. “Bravo, my lad; that’s the proper spirit,” declared the rancher warmly. The boys slept that night in a comfortably furnished bedroom containing three cots. Before daybreak they were awake and discussing the coming day. Sunrise found them outside the ranch house, eagerly inspecting their new surroundings. But, early as they were, Mr. Reeves had been up before them and was ready to show them around. “Now, you boys must each pick yourself out a pony,” he said, leading them toward a big corral in which several ponies were running loose. “But we have our own,” objected Ralph, who knew what western bronchos are when they are first taken out of a corral. “I know that,” responded Mr. Reeves, “but your ponies are pretty well tuckered out after all they went through yesterday. Fresh mounts will be very much better.” “You have some fine ones here, too,” said Jack, who had been inspecting the twenty or more cayuses in the corral. “Yes, Lagunitas is famous for its stock,” was the response. “Will you rope the ones you want for yourselves, or shall I tell a puncher to do it for you?” “We’d be fine Rangers if we couldn’t rope our own ponies,” laughed Jack. So saying, he selected a rope from several which were hanging on the corral posts. He tried it out and found it a good, pliant bit of rawhide. In the meantime Walt and Ralph had each taken another “riata” and were testing them. So far as Ralph was concerned, his knowledge of lariat throwing was strictly limited. He had practiced a bit on the Merrill ranch, but he did not know much about the art—for an art it is to throw a rope with precision and accuracy. By this time several of the cow–punchers attached to the ranch had assembled and watched the boys critically. “Watch the Tenderfeet throw a rope, Bud,” said one of them, a short, freckle–faced fellow. “Waal, I don’t know but that tall one knows how to handle a lariat,” rejoined Bud, fixing his eyes on Jack as he entered the corral with his rope trailing behind him, the loop ready for a swing. As soon as the boys were within the corral they started “milling” the ponies, as it is called, that is, causing them to run round and round in circles. In this work they were aided by the shrill whoops and yells of the cow–punchers, who perched on the fence like a row of buzzards. A buckskin pony with a white face and pink–rimmed eyes caught Jack’s fancy, and in a jiffy his rope was swishing through the air. It fell neatly about the buckskin’s neck, and Jack quickly brought the little animal up with a round turn on the “snubbing post” in the center of the corral. Then came Walt’s turn and after some difficulty he succeeded in lassoing a small but wiry chestnut animal that looked capable of carrying his weight finely.