"My regular breaker was not here when I bought him.

Black Joe tried to mount him, but the horse scared him." "Well, I'll soon see what he is made of, if I can get saddle and bridle on him," said the Texan.
They now together approached the large box stall in which the stallion was kept.

The horse, almost perfect in symmetry, black as night, with a fierce, wild look, turned to front them as they approached the barred entrance.
"Steady, boy--steady!" cried the Texan, as he sprang lightly over the bars, and at once laid his hand on the arched neck of the horse.
To the wonder of the stableman, the horse, instead of rearing back or plunging at the intruder, turned his eyes upon him, and with a kind of tremor in his frame, seemed to wait to see what his visitor meant.
"So! Steady, Black Hawk! steady, old boy!" continued the Texan, kindly passing his hand over the horse's neck and down his face.
The horse uttered a low neigh, and seemed by his looks pleased with his attentions.
"That beats me!" cried the stable-keeper.

"Old Joe had to lasso him and draw him down to a ringbolt before he could rub him off." "Hand me the saddle and bridle," said the Texan, still continuing to "pet" the beautiful and spirited animal.
In a few seconds, without difficulty, the same kind and skillful hands had the horse both saddled and bridled.
The Texan now led the horse out on the street, where quite a crowd seemed to be gathering, perhaps drawn there by some rumor of a fight in embryo.
And as he glanced up the street the Texan saw Wild Bill himself, with his six-shooters in his belt, come striding along, with California Joe and a dozen more at his heels.
In a second, the Texan vaulted upon the back of the horse, which made one wild leap that would have unseated most riders, and then reared on its hind legs as if it would fall back and crush its would-be master.
At this instant, Wild Bill rushing forward, pistol in hand, shouted: "Give up that horse, or die!".