This was no tricky old cow pony, but a natively vicious, powerful, and cunning young horse. While the cowboys held him Dan threw off his coat and hat and bound a bandanna over the bronchos's head and pulled it down over his eyes. Laying the saddle on swiftly, but gently, he cinched it strongly. With determined and vigorous movement, he thrust the bit into his mouth. "Slack away!" he called to the ropers. The horse, nearly dead for lack of breath, drew a deep sigh. Haney called out: "Stand clear, everybody, clear the road!" And casting one rope to the ground, Dan swung into the saddle. For just an instant the horse crouched low and waited--then shot into the air with a tigerish bound and fell stiff-legged. Again and again he flung his head down, humped his back, and sprang into the air grunting and squealing with rage and fear. Dan sat him, but the punishment made him swear. Suddenly the horse dropped and rolled, hoping to catch his rider unawares. Dan escaped by stepping to the ground, but he was white, and the blood was oozing slowly from his nose. As the brute arose, Dan was in the saddle. With two or three tremendous bounds, the horse flung himself into the air like a high-vaulting acrobat, landing so near the fence that Dan, swerving far to the left, was unseated, and sprawled low in the dust while the squealing broncho went down the track bucking and lashing out with undiminished vigor. Dan staggered to his feet, stunned and bleeding. He swore most terrible oaths that he would ride that wall-eyed brute if it took a year. "You've had your turn. It was a fair fight," called Kelly. "Who's the next ambitious man?" shouted Haney. "I don't want no truck with that," said the cowboys among themselves. "Not in a place like this," said Jimmy. "A feller's liable to get mashed agin a fence." Mose stood with hands gripping a post, his eyes thoughtful. Suddenly he threw off his coat. "I'll try him," he said. "Oh, I don't think you'd better; it'll bung you all up," cautioned Reynolds. Mose said in a low voice: "I'm good for him, and I need that money." "Let him breathe awhile," called the crowd as the broncho was brought back, lariated as before. "Give him a show for his life." Mose muttered to Reynolds: "He's due to bolt, and I'm going to quirt him a-plenty." The spectators, tense with joy, filled the air with advice and warning. "Don't let him get started. Keep him away from the fence." Mose wore a set and serious look as he approached the frenzied beast. There was danger in this trick--a broken leg or collar bone might make his foolhardiness costly. In his mind's eye he could foresee the broncho's action. He had escaped down the track once, and would do the same again after a few desperate bounds--nevertheless Mose dreaded the terrible concussion of those stiff-legged leapings.