cocked gun. He was of no special use as a cow-pony and was kept about
the ranch merely because he happened to belong to the Concho caviayard.
It took a wise horse and two good men to get a saddle on him when some
aspiring newcomer intimated that he could ride anything with hair on
it. He was the inevitable test of the new man. No one as yet had
ridden him to a finish; nor was it expected. The man who could stand a
brief ten seconds' punishment astride of the outlaw was considered a
pretty fair rider. It was customary to time the performance, as one
would time a race, but in the instance of riding Blue Smoke the man was
timed rather than the horse. So far, Bailey himself held the record.
He had stayed with the outlaw fifteen seconds.

Pete learned this, and much more, about Blue Smoke's disposition while
the men ate and joked with Mrs. Bailey. And Mrs. Bailey, good woman,
was no less eloquent than the men in describing the outlaw's unenviable
temperament, never dreaming that the men would allow a boy of Pete's
years to ride the horse. Pete, a bit embarrassed in this lively
company, attended heartily to his plate. He gathered, indirectly, that
he was expected to demonstrate his ability as a rider, sooner or later.
He hoped that it would be later.

After dinner the men loafed out and gravitated lazily toward the
corral, where they stood eying the horses and commenting on this and
that pony. Pete had eyes for no horse but Blue Smoke. He admitted to
himself that he did not want to ride that horse. He knew that his rise
would be sudden and that his fall would be great. Still, he sported
the habiliments of a full-fledged buckaroo, and he would have to live
up to them. A man who could not sit the hurricane-deck of a pitching
horse was of little use to the ranch. In the busy season each man
caught up his string of ponies and rode them as he needed them. There