This was done by belting him and checking him to a pad strapped upon his back.

He struggled fiercely to rid himself of these fetters.

He leaped in the air, fell, rolled over, backing and wheeling around and around till Dan grew dizzy watching him.
A bystander once said: "Why don't you climb onto him and stay with him till he gets sick o' pitchin'; that's what a broncho buster would do." "Because I don't want him 'busted'; I want him taught that I'm his friend," said Harold.
In the end "Jack," as Harold called the roan, walked up to his master and rubbed his nose against his shoulder.

Harold then stripped away the bridle and pad at once, and when he put them on next day Jack winced, but did not plunge, and Harold mounted him.

A day or two later the colt worked under the saddle like an old horse.