"That's Matt Boyle, the ranch foreman," explained Archie; "and that's Billy's horse—Buffalo, he calls him—and a finer piece of horse-flesh never was."
"Jove, look at Billy ride!" cried Frank, for the Western lad had, with a bound, leaped to the back of his animal, and was speeding around the corral at a swift pace.
"I never knew he could do that," spoke Andy.
"Oh, shucks!" exclaimed Archie. "That's nothing. You wait until you see Billy do some real ridin'. Then you can open your eyes."
"I wonder if we'll ever be able to ride like that?" mused Andy.
"Of course you will, if you stay here long enough," said the cattleman. "It only takes practice."
"That's right, the same as it does for anything else—like being good," added Frank, with a nudge at his brother's ribs, bringing forth a grunt of protest.
Billy swept up to the buckboard, on the seat of which his chums still were, and pulling up his mount, suddenly cried out:
"Say, I didn't mean to be so impolite, but I couldn't wait any longer to get on Buffalo's back. Come on down and I'll take you into the house and introduce you to Aunt Kittie."
"That's all right—no apologies needed," said Frank. "We were just wishing we could ride like you."