were secured and brought outside the corral; then began the process of saddling and bridling.
"What, haven't those horses even been broken?" asked Larry of his uncle in surprise, as the horses pirouetted and snorted and jumped about when the men sought to saddle them. One pony even had to be thrown and his legs hobbled before the cow-puncher could get him saddled.
"Why, sure," returned Mr. Brodie, "most of these are seasoned horses, but they have been running on the range all winter and haven't been worked, so on a morning like this they are full of kinks and have to work off their steam somehow."
If Larry had been surprised at the trouble in saddling the bronchos, he was still more surprised when the first one mounted began to buck. He would put his head down between his knees and then buck straight into the air, three or four feet, and come down stiff-legged giving his rider a terrific jolt.
"Gracious," ejaculated Larry, "I wouldn't want to be on that piece of horse flesh. What is the matter with him? Is he ugly?"
"Oh, no," returned Uncle Henry, "he is just working off steam. We always say that a mustang that won't buck is bad in some other way. We like to have them buck, then we know they're natural. I had a broncho once that never bucked until I had ridden him
