By this time the foreman had taken hold of the rope that held the most violent of the ponies, and was slowly shortening upon it. As he neared the pony's head a cowboy began whipping a blanket over its back. While the animal was plunging and kicking, Stallings gripped him by the bridle, after which there was a lively struggle, and in a moment more a broad handkerchief had been tied over the pony's eyes. "What's that for! Is he going to play blind man's buff?" demanded Chunky. "Huh! Get out!" growled Big-foot. "If he does, you'll be it," jeered Ned Rector. At last the animal crouched down trembling. He had never passed through an experience like that before and could not understand it. Tad Butler standing near, was observing the operation with keenly inquiring eyes. All at once the little animal leaped clear of the foreman's grip, its blinder came off and it launched into a series of wild bucks and grunts. The air seemed full of flying hoofs, and for the moment there was a lively scattering of cowpunchers and Pony Riders. Once more, and with great patience, the foreman went all over the proceeding again. This time the foreman got one hand on the animal's nose and the other in his mane. All at once something happened. A forty-pound saddle was thrown, not dropped, on the back of the unsuspecting pony. The broncho's back arched like a bow, and the saddle went skyward. Stacy Brown happened to be in the way of it as it descended, so that boy and saddle went down together in a yelling heap. The cowpunchers howled with delight as Chunky, covered with dust, wiping the sand from his eyes, staggered angrily to his feet. "Did he kick me?" he demanded. "With his back, yes," chuckled Shorty Savage. Again and again the saddle was shot into the air the instant it touched the pony's back. It was back in place in no time, however. After a time the broncho paused, as if to devise some new method of getting rid of the hated thing. As he did so, Big-foot Sanders cautiously poked a stick under the animal, pulling the girth toward him. A moment more and he had slipped it through a large buckle, and, with a jerk, made the girth fast. Again the bucking began, but more violently than before. The saddle held, though it slipped to one side a little. "I've got him now," cried Stallings. "The instant he lets up, catch that flank girth and make fast." "Right," answered Big-foot. It was accomplished almost before the boys realized it. Walter and his companions set up a shout. The pony stood panting, head down, legs braced apart. The blinder had been torn from his eyes. He was waiting for the next move. "Are you ready for me now?" asked Tad Butler quietly. The foreman turned his head, glancing at Tad questioningly. "Think you can stand it?" "I can't any more than fall off." Stallings nodded. Tad slipped to the pony's side. Cautiously placing his left foot in the stirrups, he suddenly flung himself into the saddle.