plained Gilcrist, hitching up the strap of his haversack. "Is n't it great it 's such a dandy day?"

"I was n't worrying about that," shrugged Ramsey, as they set off down the street. "It has n't rained for a week. Where are we going to meet?"

Gilerist told him, adding as much information as he could about the day's plans, and by the time he had finished, they were in sight of the school-house. The crowd gathered about the steps greeted Ramsey pleasantly almost too pleasantly, in fact, Otis thought uncomfortably, remembering what the climax of the outing was to be.

All the way out to the glen, where they were to cook their lunch, the whole gang seemed to be making a special effort to be agreeable, and the result was that Ramsey had a far better time than Otis Gilcrist.

Apparently he had not the least suspicion that there was anything in the wind. Unfamiliar with the country, he could not realize, of course, that they were returning by an extremely roundabout route. Even when the crowd emerged from the woods and began to skirt a well-fenced pasture, he continued to talk and laugh-actually to laugh!-in the most unconstrained fashion.

Then all at once Gilcrist, watching him nervously, caught a change in his expression. They had come to a smaller pasture, where several horses were moving slowly about. Two high-pommeled saddles hung over the fence, a saddled horse, tethered by the bridle, stood outside the gate. As the boys paused to peer between the rails, Ramsey darted an odd glance at Lynn Sutton, who stood beside him, and Otis saw his face grow masklike.

"Are n't they some of the broncs your uncle got from Texas, Lynn?" asked Frank Richardson, who had been well coached.

"Sure," nodded Sutton. "A car-load came in about two weeks ago. They look mighty good to me. Gee! If there is n't a couple of saddles, too. Sam must have started to break one of the broncs and then been called away. I've half a mind to-Uncle Bennie always says I'm free to ride anything on the place." He turned suddenly to Ramsey. "What do you say, old man? Let's try out a couple of them for five minutes or so. It'll be like old times."

"It does n't make much difference to you whether I am or not, does it?" retorted the other, calmly.

For an instant Sutton looked distinctly put out. He had expected Ramsey to flush and show embarrassment, to deny the accusation with heat and bluster. This cool indifference he had not planned for.

"Well, I'll have to go it alone, then," he shrugged, struck by a new idea. "Say, Frank, you and Tommy help me saddle up, will you?"

Dale and Richardson acquiesced, and the rest of the crowd ranged themselves along the fence. They could not quite understand why Sutton had not seized this chance of branding Ramsey as a fakir; but knowing him of old, they felt he must have some good reason for holding back.

Sutton walked up to the tethered horse, which he had ridden more than once before, loosened the bridle-rein and swung himself lightly into the saddle. The gate opened and he rode into the pasture with just the faintest touch of flourish, swinging as he went the lariat which hung from the saddle-horn. Dale and Richardson followed, closing and fastening the gate behind them.

At Lynn's approach, the six broncos promptly sought the farther side of the pasture which, in shape and size, was really more like a Western bronc-pen and was frequently used as such by Mr. Harris. Guiding his well-trained mount by deft touches of rein and heel, he swiftly cornered the broncos, flung the rope with a practised twist of his wrist, and a moment later, one of the animals was down.

Intentionally or not, he had picked out an easy beast to saddle, for there are some broncos who make comparatively little resistance until they feel the weight of the rider on their back. With the aid of Dale and Richardson, and amid the breathless attention of the onlookers, this task was expertly accomplished, and the animal, snorting, rolling his eyes, and making occasional little buck jumps, was dragged over to the fence and securely tied.

"Are n't you going to ride him?" demanded Stub Grissom, as Sutton mounted again.

"He 's for Ramsey; I 'm going to rope another for myself," grinned Lynn, glancing at the sullen, dark-haired boy standing so

Sutton raised his eyebrows. "Oh, come!" he protested, a touch of sarcasm in his voice. "Surely you 're not afraid?"

"With me taking all the responsibility and doing all the work, I 'm sure he won't be able to resist the chance of riding a real oldfashioned bronc again."

One of the boys giggled, and a dull red. crept up into Ramsey's face. He made no comment, but Gilcrist, glancing sidewise, noted, with an odd mingling of admiration

This one was quite different from the first. Lynn had picked on a roan with white mane and tail; and the first time he threw his rope, the animal evaded it with a sudden agile leap

to one side. Apparently undisturbed, Sutton gathered up the lariat and went after the bunch again, this time with more success. Down went the roan on the turf, kicking, squealing, and fighting furiously against the inevitable.

"We'll have to saddle him while he 's down," shouted Sutton, keeping the rope taut. "A couple more of you fellows come in and help, will you?"

There was no actual scrambling to obey the injunction. It was one thing to watch the excitement from the safe side of the fence, and quite another to come to close quarters with this vixenish beast, who seemed all flying hoofs and bared teeth. But finally two of the older fellows, Curtis and Al Slater, came forward, and while one of them fetched the saddle, the other three, under Lynn's direction, held the bronco down on his side.

The operation of adjusting the saddle took some time, and Gilcrist, happening to glance at Ramsey, was

"He looks as if nothing would ever make him change his mind," Otis thought uneasily. "I do wish I knew whether Lynn was right or not. I'm sure he is n't; but if Bob can ride why does n't he do it?"

His reflections were broken by the thud of hoofs inside the fence, and in an instant every other consideration was lost in the excitement of watching Sutton capture the second bronco.

mingled anxiety and indecision which puzzled Otis. His eyes were fixed intently on the scene inside the pasture, and while Sutton was busily engaged putting on the saddle, his lips parted impulsively, only to close again the next moment in the old stubborn line.

With considerable difficulty, Sutton tightened the cinch and put on the bridle. Then, leaving the others to hold the bronco, he led the horse he had been using outside the

pasture and tied him. Returning, he paused beside the fence near Ramsey and flung his rope carelessly across the rail. His face was flushed and his eyes full of triumph at having accomplished what he knew to be a difficult and ticklish business.

"All ready?" he inquired, looking meaningly at Ramsey. "My bronc 's the worst; I 'll have to mount him while he 's down. But I guess the other one has enough life in him to give you some fun."

"You'd better let that cayuse alone," said Ramsey, laconically. "He's a bad actor."

Sutton stared. "Oh, really?" he drawled in a slightly nettled tone. "You think so, do you?"

"I know so," retorted Ramsey, curtly.

Lynn's lips curled slightly. "You seem to know a lot, if a person can judge by your talk," he said contemptuously. "I'd say it was about time for you to show us. Are you going to ride that bronc?"

"I am not. How many times do you want me to tell you that?"

"You need n't trouble yourself again," sneered Sutton, turning away. "I've got your number now. I had an idea you were nothing but a bluff, and now I know."

"Are n't you going to ride, either?" asked one of the boys, in a disappointed tone.

"Sure I am!" called back Sutton. "You don't suppose I 've taken all this trouble for nothing?"

Straddling the prostrate bronco, he took the bridle in one hand.

"When I give the word, you fellows all let go at once and jump for the fence," he said. "Once he 's on his feet, I can handle him alone, but I 've got to have plenty of room. Are you all ready?-Beat it!"

At the command, the four boys released their hold and raced for the fence. As the bronco scrambled to his feet, Sutton's back straightened, his toes shot into the stirrups with accustomed ease, and he was automatically lifted to his feet. For a single instant the horse stood motionless, neck stretched out and teeth viciously bared. And in that breathless pause, Gilcrist, smitten by a sudden, unaccountable sense of foreboding, found time to flash at his companion a momentary glance which confirmed his worst fears.

Eyes riveted on horse and rider, and utterly oblivious to all else, Ramsey stood close against the fence like a figure carved from stone. A moment before, his face had been dark with fury. Now it was lint-white, with muscles strained across his jaw and chin, and

narrowed lids that showed his keen black eyes through merest slits.

"He ought to have been stopped!" gasped Gilcrist, intuitively. "We should n't-"

Too late! Uttering an angry screech, the bronco shook his head viciously and suddenly started across the pasture at a dead run. Sutton evidently tried his best to turn him by dragging on one rein, but the brute seemed to have a jaw of iron, and he was only partially successful. With the blind recklessness of utter madness, the horse struck the farther fence slantingly with a force which flung him back several feet and made Lynn reel unsteadily in the saddle. An instant later, the brute dropped his head and began to pitch.

At the very first buck it became evident to the now frightened onlookers that there was something wrong with Sutton. His face was white and drawn with pain, and, though he managed to keep his seat for several jumps, he swayed dangerously in the saddle. Then suddenly to the helpless, horrified watchers it all seemed to happen in the twinkling of an eye the bronco leaped into the air with a whirling motion which turned him half around. As his fore feet struck the ground, Lynn was flung out of the saddle, to land with crushing force a dozen feet away, where he lay motionless, a crumpled heap.

A gasping shudder went through the crowd and one of the smaller boys began to cry. Gilcrist, watching the movements of the maddened bronco, suddenly gave a gasp of horror and leaped for the fence.

"Bob!" he cried. "The beast 's going for him! Can't you-"

His words clipped off at the realization that Ramsey was no longer beside him. A second later he saw a tall, lithe figure vault the fence farther down, apparently straight into the saddle of the tethered bronco. But the animal was no longer tethered. Either Ramsey had slashed the bridle with his knife, or else hastily untied it. For as he struck the saddle, the horse danced out into the pasture, reared up on his hind legs, and then started to run.

For all his fright and horror, Gilcrist was conscious of a wave of self-reproach that, for even a fleeting instant, he could possibly have doubted the ability of his friend. Thighs rigid, body supple, easy, swaying a little with every movement of the frantic beast, Ramsey kept his seat without the slightest evidence of effort. One hand held the shortened bridle with an iron grip that became quickly evident in the horse's lessening speed. With

the other, in some extraordinary manner, he was coiling the rope he had evidently snatched from the fence-rail as he passed.

And yet, for all his speed he was not a moment too soon. Not content with throwing his hated burden, Sutton's roan, after tossing his head with a triumphant whinny, had turned about and was advancing on the senseless boy, head outstretched and yellow teeth bared in vicious fashion.

Apparently oblivious of the rider coming up behind, he was within three or four feet of where Sutton lay when Ramsey's rope, whirling through the air, dropped accurrately over his head and tightened with a sudden jerk.

Ramsey had twisted the other end around the saddle-horn, and, with the greatest effort, managed to force his own frightened, skittish mount back a dozen feet, dragging the roan with him. But the situation was still precarious. The bronco he rode, entirely untrained and already frightened nearly out of his wits, was utterly undependable and likely at any moment to break away from his control and free the roan.

"Hurry up and get him out, you fellows," Ramsey shouted to Gilcrist and two or three others who had

the shouts and general commotion had attracted his attention, and he cantered over in time to witness the climax of the affair.

He took in the situation at a glance and, loosening his rope, urged his horse forward at a gallop. A moment later he had dexterously thrown the struggling roan, whom Ramsey

climbed the fence and were hesitating doubtfully at the edge of the pasture. "I can't hold this beast very long."

Otis and two other boys started to obey Ramsey's order. They were still a dozen feet away when the gate was flung open and Sam Kaylor, Mr. Harris's right-hand man, rode swiftly into the pasture, swinging his lariat. Coming in from a distant part of the farm,

had not been able quite to down, and held him helpless while, at his direction, two of the boys removed Sutton, unsaddled the bronco, and opened the gate into the larger pasture.

The other broncos lost no time in dashing through it to freedom; and when the two lariats were taken off the roan, he instantly followed, evidently having had his fill of human society.

"How'd that brute get in here?" growled Kaylor, striding over and gripping the bridle of Ramsey's mount close up to the bit.

"Have n't the least idea," panted the boy, brushing one sleeve across his dripping face. "He was with the others when we first came.' "Must have been that fool Jed!" snorted Kaylor. "The boss told him to run six of 'em in here, and he 's got just about enough sense to pick that outlaw along with the rest." He paused, his thin lips curving in a slow smile. "Where'd you learn to ride, son?" he asked.

Ramsey slid out of the saddle and bent to unbuckle the cinch. "In Montana," he answered, flushing a little. "I was brought up on a ranch there."

"I'll say you was," nodded Kaylor, approvingly. "It 's some stunt to rope a beast like that roan from another bronco. Easy, boy, easy."

He spoke soothingly to the horse while they removed saddle and bridle, and then sent him flying with a gentle slap.

"I hope the kid ain't hurt," he went on, as they started for the gate. "How 'd he come to get thrown? Generally he can stick on anything with four legs."

Briefly Ramsey told him; and together they hastened from the pasture, where Kaylor's anxiety was set at rest by the sight of Sutton sitting on the grass surrounded by the other boys and apparently little the worse for his adventure save for a prominent swelling on his forehead and a series of deep scratches along one cheek.

"It was that beastly squeeze against the fence that did it," he was saying. "I did n't seem to have a particle of strength left in that leg; it's a wonder to me I-stayed-on."

Suddenly meeting Ramsey's eyes over Gilcrist's shoulder, his voice trailed off into silence and a deep flush crept up to the very roots of his fair hair. Impulsively he tried to gain his feet, only to slip back with a twisted, embarrassed smile.

"I-I'll be all right—in a minute," he murmured, his glance shifting. "It's only a little strained."

He paused, biting his lips, and Gilcrist, filled with delight and overwhelming satisfaction at his friend's dramatic vindication, decided he had never seen Lynn so utterly at a loss before. Then all at once Sutton's lips straightened and his level gaze sought Ramsey's again.

"he

"The fellows have been telling mebegan awkwardly. "I-I guess I've been an awful donkey, Ramsey."

"Oh, I don't know about that," returned the Westerner, almost as much embarrassed. "You would n't have been thrown but for that squeeze."

"I was n't thinking of that." Sutton drew a long breath and a little twinkle came into his eyes. "You certainly did put it all over me," he confessed. "I was so dead sure you could n't ride."

"That's where you made one mighty big mistake," put in Sam Kaylor, gruffly. "This kid acts to me as if he was pretty near born on horseback."

"Oh, I know that, Sam," shrugged Sutton. "Don't rub it in when I 'm giving such a beautiful imitation of a crawling worm." Again his glance sought Ramsey's. "But what was the idea? Why would n't you show us until you had to?"

Ramsey drew himself up a little. "When you fellows would n't believe what I said, I— I was n't going to-to prove it by doingstunts," he returned stiffly.

Again the blood crept up into Sutton's face and his eyes fell. One outstretched hand grasped a twig, which he began to break absently into little pieces. Suddenly he looked up, his face serious.

"I'm sorry," he said simply. "We we were all donkeys, and I was the worst of the lot. I'll lay down and let you walk on me if you like," he added, his lips twisting in a whimsical smile.

For the first time Ramsey's face lightened. He was a friendly soul at heart and he had not enjoyed this period of self-imposed aloof

ness.

"I'll wait till your leg 's well before I try that," he shrugged.

Sutton laughed. "Good! You 're a bit too husky to do any very light stepping. Give us a hand, will you? I believe I can stand on the blooming thing now."

Ramsey bent over and, catching Sutton's outstretched hand, drew him easily to his feet. As their fingers met he was conscious of a pressure on the other's part, a little harder and a trifle more prolonged than seemed quite necessary. And Lynn's eyes, serious for the moment, gazed straight into his and thanked him mutely.

That was all. But Bob Ramsey would have hated anything more; and as Sutton. limped over to speak to Kaylor, the Westerner took hold of Gilcrist's arm and pinched it.

"Not a half-bad day after all, Gil,” he said smilingly. "I 'm rather glad you nagged me into coming."