The black dodged skillfully, and the loop of Curly’s riata missed the mark.

“You better let somebody put eyes in that rope, Curly,” remarked Phil, laconically, as he stepped aside to avoid a wild rush.

The chagrined cowboy said something in a low tone, so that Little Billy could not hear.

The Dean chuckled.

Bob’s riata whirled, shot out its snaky length, and his trained horse braced himself skillfully to the black’s weight on the rope.  For a few minutes the animal at the loop end of the riata struggled desperately—­plunging, tugging, throwing himself this way and that; but always the experienced cow-horse turned with his victim and the rope was never slack.  When his first wild efforts were over and the black stood with his wide braced feet, breathing heavily as that choking loop began to tell, the strain on the taut riata was lessened, and Phil went quietly toward the frightened captive.

No one moved or spoke.  This was not an exhibition the success of which depended on the vicious wildness of the horse to be conquered.  This was work, and it was not Phil’s business to provoke the black to extremes in order to exhibit his own prowess as a rider for the pleasure of spectators who had paid to see the show.  The rider was employed to win the confidence of the unbroken horse entrusted to him; to force obedience, if necessary; to gentle and train, and so make of the wild creature a useful and valuable servant for the Dean.

There are riders whose methods demand that they throw every unbroken horse given them to handle, and who gentle an animal by beating it about the head with loaded quirts, ripping its flanks open with sharp spurs and tearing its mouth with torturing bits and ropes.  These turn over to their employers as their finished product horses that are broken, indeed—­but broken only in spirit, with no heart or courage left to them, with dispositions ruined, and often with physical injuries from which they never recover.  But riders of such methods have no place among the men employed by owners of the Dean’s type.  On the Cross-Triangle, and indeed on all ranches where conservative business principles are in force, the horses are handled with all the care and gentleness that the work and the individuality of the animal will permit.

After a little Phil’s hand gently touched the black’s head.  Instantly the struggle was resumed.  The rider dodged a vicious blow from the strong fore hoofs and with a good natured laugh softly chided the desperate animal.  And so, presently, the kind hand was again stretched forth; and then a broad band of leather was deftly slipped over the black’s frightened eyes.  Another thicker and softer rope was knotted so that it could not slip about the now sweating neck, and fashioned into a hackamore or halter about the animal’s nose.  Then the riata was loosed.  Working deftly, silently, gently—­ever wary of those dangerous hoofs—­Phil