His sight had become extraordinarily keen for a
new-comer on the ranges, and when experience had taught him the land-
marks, the trails, the distances, the difference between smoke and dust
and haze, when he could distinguish a band of mustangs from cattle, and
range-riders from outlaws or Indians; in a word, when he had learned to
know what it was that he saw, to trust his judgment, he would have
acquired the basic feature of a rider's training. But he showed no gift
for the lasso, that other essential requirement of his new calling.
"It's funny," said Dave, patiently, "you can't get the hang of it. Maybe
it's born in a fellow. Now handling a gun seems to come natural for some
fellows, and you're one of them. If only you could get the rope away as
quick as you can throw your gun!"
Jack kept faithfully at it, unmindful of defeats, often chagrined when he
missed some easy opportunity. Not improbably he might have failed
altogether if he had been riding an ordinary horse, or if he had to try
roping from a fiery mustang. But Silvermane was as intelligent as he was
beautiful and fleet. The horse learned rapidly the agile turns and
sudden stops necessary, and as for free running he never got enough.
Pages:
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
196
197
198
199