and opened its carcass. mounted their horses and started on opposite sides of the line of fire, with the beef lying flat on the earth between them, bloody side down. Thus they dragged it along by ropes reaching from its legs to their saddle horns. One of the horsemen spurred his horse over the burning grass while the other rode on the unburned ground, and the weight of the blood smothered the flames as the beef was twitched over them, while two men following on foot beat out whatever fire was left with slickers and wet saddle blankets.

He and another man then

It was not easy for Mr. Roosevelt and his companion to manage their almost crazed horses and keep the carcass on the line. The man on the burning side had to run the risk of a scorching. The horses bucked and bolted and the ropes cut into the thighs of the riders. Down they would plunge into a black ravine, which broke the line of fire, stumbling, sliding, and pitching into holes and bushes, the carcass sometimes catching on a stump; and then up they would leap into the blinding glare of the flames on the other side. When at last the fire was turned, the fighters would sink down, too tired to think of washing their blackened faces.

After only a little experience in ranching, Mr. Roosevelt learned to sit in his saddle and ride his horse like a life-long plainsman. But he never has pretended to any special fondness for a bucking bronco, and a story is told of a trick played on him by some friendly persons in Medora. He was in town waiting for a train that was to bring a guest from the East. While he was in a store, the jokers placed his saddle on a notoriously vicious beast which they substituted for Mr. Roosevelt's mount. When he came out, in haste to ride around to the railway station, he did not detect the deception.

Once he was on the horse's back, he was made instantly aware of the change. The bronco bucked and whirled, to the amusement of the grinning villagers. But to their amazement, the young ranchman succeeded in staying on him and spurring him into a run. Away they flew to the prairies and soon back they raced in a cloud of dust and through the town. The friend from the East arrived and

joined the spectators, who waited to see if the young squire of Elkhorn ever would return. In In a little while he was seen coming along the road at a gentle gait, and when he reached his starting point, he

dismounted with a smile of quiet mastery from as meek a creature as ever stood on four legs.

He had no use, however, for a horse whose spirit ran altogether to ugliness. When he first went West, he doubted the theory of the natives that any horse was hopelessly bad. For instance, there was one in the sod-roofed log stable of Elkhorn who had been labelled "The Devil." Mr. Roosevelt believed that gentleness would overcome Devil. The boys thought it might if he should live to be seventy-five. After much patient wooing, Devil actually let Mr. Roosevelt lay his hand on him and pat him. The boys began to think that possibly there was something in this new plan of bronco busting.

One day, however, when his gentle trainer made bold to saddle and mount him, Devil quickly drew his four hoofs together, leaped into the air and came down with a jerk and a thud. Then he finished with a few fancy curves that landed his disillusioned rider a good many yards in front of him. Mr. Roosevelt sprang to his feet and on to the back of the animal. Four times he was thrown, and one of the onlookers has vowed that sometimes he could see twelve acres of land between him and the saddle.

Finally the determined rider manoeuvred Devil out on to a quicksand, where bucking is impossible, and when at last he was driven back to solid earth he was like a lamb.

In this rough life of the range the young ranchman conquered forever the physical weaknesses of his youth and put on that rude strength which has enabled him to stand before the world, a model of vigorous manhood.

CHAPTER VIII

LIFE ON THE PLAINS

The young master of Elkhorn Ranch wins the respect of the honest plainsmen by his Rooseveltian frankness. — No use for "bad men."- Knocking down a bar-room rowdy who commanded the Easterner to treat the crowd. — Calling down a notorious shooting man. Teaching a French Marquis a new code of honor. Plain speaking to a corrupt sheriff. Pursuing horse-thieves a hundred and fifty miles and landing them in jail. Fourth of July oration. - Hunting and writing his two pastimes.

THE young master of Elkhorn Ranch, brave, outspoken, and always ready to bear his full share of toil and hardship, was not long in winning the respect and hearty good-will of the bluff, honest men of the Bad Lands. They forgave him his Murray Hill breeding, his Harvard English, his gold-rimmed eye-glasses eye-glasses and his fringed Angora "chaps," or riding overalls, when they saw that he asked no favor, shirked no labor, and ran from no danger. They, the real plainsmen, had no more use than he for braggarts and brawlers, and he never hesitated to show his contempt for the swaggering "bad men" of his region.