The Last of the Plainsmen 



raised up at the trumpet of doom. Nothing under 

 the sun, Frank said, bothered Old Baldy but the 

 operation of shoeing. We made the distance to the 

 outpost by noon, and found Frank s friend a genial 

 and obliging cowboy, who said we could have all 

 the horses we wanted. 



While Jones and Wallace strutted round the big 

 corral, which was full of vicious, dusty, shaggy 

 horses and mustangs, I sat high on the fence. I 

 heard them talking about points and girth and stride, 

 and a lot of terms that I could not understand. 

 Wallace selected a heavy sorrel, and Jones a big bay, 

 very like Jim s. I had observed, way over in the 

 corner of the corral, a bunch of cayuses, and among 

 them a clean-limbed black horse. Edging round on 

 the fence I got a closer view, and then cried out 

 that I had found my horse. I jumped down and 

 caught him, much to my surprise, for the other horses 

 were wild, and had kicked viciously. The black 

 was beautifully built, wide-chested and powerful, 

 but not heavy. His coat glistened like sheeny black 

 satin, and he had a white face and white feet and a 

 long mane. 



&quot; I don t know about giving you Satan that s his 

 name,&quot; said the cowboy. &quot; The foreman rides him 

 often. He s the fastest, the best climber, and the 



best dispositioned horse on the range. 



76 



