How many times he went over its head no one knew, for they had lost all count; but somehow the fat boy seemed to bear a charmed life, for his hurts were all of a minor character. And in the end he won out, just as the others knew he would; for given time running water can wear away a stone. And now Jupiter was under perfect control, save for an occasional little spasm, when his old ugly nature tried to show itself for a change. These three lads had seen considerable excitement around Keystone Ranch, as the home place was called; and later on Donald had been sent down into Arizona when his father, being disabled, could not come; in order to settle some troubles that had arisen in connection with a rich copper mine, in which he and some others were heavily interested. An unscrupulous syndicate of capitalists, headed by one Colonel Deering, a close neighbor of the Mackays, but who had always been on bad terms with the other ranch-owners, had secured a footing in the copper mine, knowing of a very rich lode that had just been discovered; and tried by every means in their power to freeze out the other stockholders, even engineering a serious strike that threatened to be the ruination of the whole property. But Donald, assisted by his two chums, had skillfully managed to alter the complexion of affairs during their visit, as related in the second book of the Series; making friends with the leader of the strikers in a way that was at once wonderful and lucky; so that in the end those who had been trying to foment trouble had to throw up their job and decamp, for the miners all came flocking over to the side of Donald, and gladly signed contracts to work for his father for a term of years, under the new and favorable terms. Of course Billie had another name, and perhaps it would be as well to mention all there is to say in that connection right here and now, so that agony will be over with. He had been christened William Stonewall Jackson Winkle, for, as can be seen, his father or grandfather must have at one time fought under the most beloved general known to the Southern Lost Cause. Some of his boy friends delighted to call him “Little Billie” and “Wee Willie Winkle,” just because he was anything but small. But when he got out there in the cattle country, the cowboys of the ranch, seeing his natural clumsiness, in a spirit of fun quickly dubbed him “Broncho Billie,” never dreaming that the fat boy would show such grit as to conquer that terror of the corral, Jupiter Pluvius. And nowadays no one ever thought of calling him by any other name. Billie had done considerable reading when at home, and one day while they were still roaming all around the wild rocky region that surrounded the Red Spar mine he had asked a lot of questions about the Zuni Indians, saying that he had always longed to see for himself if half the queer stories he had heard and read in connection with these quaint people of the rock houses could be true.