“He does seem to have some such notion,” admitted Patches.

“You better let him alone,” said the Dean.  “You don’t need to kill yourself to get a job with this outfit.”

“That’s very kind of you, sir,” returned the stranger gratefully.  “I’m rather glad you said that.  But I’m going to ride him just the same.”

They looked at him in amazement, for it was clear to them now that the man really could not ride.

The Dean spoke kindly.  “Why?”

“Because,” said Patches slowly, “I am curious to see what I will do under such circumstances, and if I don’t try the experiment now I’ll never know whether I have the nerve to do it or not.”  As he finished he turned and walked deliberately toward the horse.

Phil ran to Curly’s side, and the cowboy at his foreman’s gesture leaped from his saddle.  The young man mounted his helper’s horse, and with a quick movement caught the riata from the saddle horn and flipped open a ready loop.

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.