A few moments sufficed for the morning's simple camp duties.

Near at hand he found Wrangle, and to his surprise the horse came to him.

Wrangle was one of the horses that left his viciousness in the home corral.

What he wanted was to be free of mules and burros and steers, to roll in dust-patches, and then to run down the wide, open, windy sage-plains, and at night browse and sleep in the cool wet grass of a springhole.

Jerd knew the sorrel when he said of him, "Wait till he smells the sage!" Venters saddled and led him out of the oak thicket, and, leaping astride, rode up the canyon, with Ring and Whitie trotting behind.