enchantment of violet and amber and saffron in the changing rays.  The cattle stood quiet about the levels, and horses were moving among the restless colts.  These the brother bade his sister look at, for with them was his glory; and I heard him boasting of his skill—­truthful boasting, to be sure.  Had he been honest in his dealings, the good-will that man’s courage and dashing appearance beget in men would have brought him more employment than he could have undertaken.  He told Jessamine his way of breaking a horse that few would dare, and she listened eagerly.  “Do you remember when I used to hold the pony for you to get on?” she said.  “You always would scare me, Nate!” And he replied, fluently, Yes, yes; did she see that horse there, near the fence?  He was a four-year-old, an outlaw, and she would find no one had tried getting on his back since he had been absent.  This was the first question he asked on reaching the cabin, where various neighbors were waiting the mail-rider; and, finding he was right, he turned in pride to Jessamine.

“They don’t know how to handle that horse,” said he.  “I told you so.  Give me a rope.”

Did she notice the cold greeting Nate received?  I think not.  Not only was their welcome to her the kinder, but any one is glad to witness bold riding, and this chance made a stir which the sister may have taken for cordiality.  But Lin gave me a look; for it was the same here as it had been in the Buffalo saloon.

“The trick is easy enough,” said Nate, arriving with his outlaw, and liking an audience.  “You don’t want a bridle, but a rope hackamore like this—­Spanish style.  Then let them run as hard as they want, and on a sudden reach down your arm and catch the hackamore short, close up by the mouth, and jerk them round quick and heavy at full speed.  They quit their fooling after one or two doses.  Now watch your outlaw!”

He went into the saddle so swift and secure that the animal, amazed, trembled stock-still, then sprang headlong.  It stopped, vicious and knowing, and plunged in a rage, but could do nothing with the man, and bolted again, and away in a straight blind line over the meadow, when the rider leaned forward to his trick.  The horse veered in a jagged swerve, rolled over and over with its twisted impetus, and up on its feet and on without a stop, the man still seated and upright in the saddle.  How we cheered to see it!  But the figure now tilted strangely, and something awful and nameless came over us and chilled our noise to silence.  The horse, dazed and tamed by the fall, brought its burden towards us, a wobbling thing, falling by small shakes backward, until the head sank on the horse’s rump.

“Come away,” said Lin McLean to Jessamine and at his voice she obeyed and went, leaning on his arm.