But Ned felt sure that he was watching the Mexican out of the tail of his eye.

The vaquero, emboldened by the prospect of such a splendid prize, crept closer and closer, and then suddenly threw the lasso.

The horse's head ducked down swiftly, the coil of rope slipped back over his head, and he dashed at the Mexican.
The vaquero was barely in time to escape those terrible hoofs.

But howling with terror he sprang clear and raced away in the darkness.

The horse whinnied once or twice gently, waited, and, when no answer came to his calls, trotted off in the dusk.
"No Mexican will take your horse," said the sentinel.
"You're right when you say that," said Ned.