When the boys first arrived in California, they thought themselves expert in all manner of frontier accomplishments.  But one morning, they rode over to visit Johnny Harris and Dick Thomas—­two boys, about their own age, with whom they had become acquainted—­and, during the day, they witnessed some feats of skill that made them wonder.  Johnny and Dick, to show what they could do, captured and rode a couple of wild horses, that had never been handled before; and Frank and Archie were compelled to admit that they had some things yet to learn.  Every boy in that country could throw the lasso, and the cousins found that, if they desired to keep up their reputation, they must put themselves under instructions.  Dick and Bob readily took them in hand, and, although the boys were awkward at first, they improved rapidly.  They soon learned to throw the lasso with considerable skill, and Frank speedily took the lead in rifle-shooting, while Archie began to brag of his horsemanship.  The former could bring a squirrel out of the top of the highest oak on the farm, at every shot; and his cousin could bend down from his saddle and pick up his sombrero from the ground, while his horse was going at the top of his speed.

The horses the boys rode were the same that had carried them across the prairie, and they were now hitched at the end of the porch, saddled and bridled, and awaiting the pleasure of their masters.  One of them, Sleepy Sam, looked as sleepy as ever.  He stood with his head down, and his eyes half closed, as if it made no difference to him whether Archie took his morning ride or not.  The other, a magnificent iron-gray, pulled impatiently at his halter, and pranced about, apparently as much excited as Archie had been a few moments before.  This was the “king of the drove”—­the one the trappers had captured during their sojourn at the Old Bear’s Hole.  He answered to the name of Roderick; for Frank had read Sir Walter Scott’s “Lady of the Lake,” and, admiring the character of the rebel chieftain, had named his favorite after him.  Perhaps the name was appropriate, for the animal sometimes showed a disposition to rebel against lawful authority, especially when any one besides Frank attempted to put a saddle or bridle on him.  He was a wild-looking fellow, and he had a way of laying back his ears, and opening his mouth, when any one came near him, that would have made a stranger think twice before trying to mount him.  With Frank, however, he was as gentle as a dog.  He would come at his call, stand on his hind legs, and carry his master’s whip or sombrero.  He would kick and bite at Frank when the latter tickled him in the ribs, all in sport, of course; but if Mr. Winters, or one of the herdsmen, came about him, he would use his teeth and heels in good earnest.  He was as swift as ever, and Frank had yet to see the horse that could beat him.