The stranger was close to the bay's off, or right, side. "The other side, Patches," called Phil genially. "You want to start in right, you know." Not a man laughed--except the stranger. "Thanks," he said, and came around to the proper side. "Take your time," called Phil again. "Stand by his shoulder and watch his heels. Take the stirrup with your right hand and turn it to catch your foot. Stay back by his shoulder until you are ready to swing up. Take your time." "I won't be long," returned Patches, as he awkwardly gained his seat in the saddle. Phil moved his horse nearer the center of the corral, and shook out his loop a little. "When you're ready, lean over and pull up the blindfold," he called. The man on the horse did not hesitate. With every angry nerve and muscle strained to the utmost, the powerful bay leaped into the air, coming down with legs stiff and head between his knees. For an instant the man miraculously kept his place. With another vicious plunge and a cork-screw twist the maddened brute went up again, and this time the man was flung from the saddle as from a gigantic catapult, to fall upon his shoulders and back in the corral dust, where he lay still. The horse, rid of his enemy, leaped again; then with catlike quickness and devilish cunning whirled, and with wicked teeth bared and vicious, blazing eyes, rushed for the helpless man on the ground. With a yell Bob spurred to put himself between the bay and his victim, but had there been time the move would have been useless, for no horse could have withstood that mad charge. The vicious brute was within a bound of his victim, and had reared to crush him with the weight of heavy hoofs, when a rawhide rope tightened about those uplifted forefeet and the bay himself crashed to earth. Leaving the cow-horse to hold the riata tight, Phil sprang from his saddle and ran to the fallen man. The Dean came with water in his felt hat from the trough, and presently the stranger opened his eyes. For a moment he lay looking up into their faces as though wondering where he was, and how he happened there. "Are you hurt bad?" asked the Dean. That brought him to his senses, and he got to his feet somewhat unsteadily, and began brushing the dust from his clothes. Then he looked curiously toward the horse that Curly was holding down by the simple means of sitting on the animal's head. "I certainly thought my legs were long enough to reach around him," he said reflectively. "How in the world did he manage it? I seemed to be falling for a week." Phil yelled and the Dean laughed until the tears ran down his red cheeks, while Bob and Curly went wild. Patches went to the horse, and gravely walked around him. Then, "Let him up," he said to Curly. The cowboy looked at Phil, who nodded. As the bay regained his feet, Patches started toward him. "Here," said the Dean peremptorily. "You come away from there." "I'm going to see if he can do it again," declared Patches grimly.