“After a while, the camp that Lone Wolf lived in moved further away from Benton, so that when Bruce wanted to go to it he had about a thirteen-mile ride to make. It seemed that his chances of getting the horse were growing smaller. However, one afternoon he started out feeling pretty desperate and made his ride and got as close as he could toward the Indian lodges, and commenced to watch again. At length he saw a boy drive the horses to water, and keeping behind some hills and timber he managed to ride within two hundred yards of the place where the horses were drinking, and stopped there, hidden behind some brush. Presently, he saw the boy who was herding them go into a lodge, and in a moment he rushed out, dashed between the horses and the lodges and started the band off toward the prairie. As soon as he got them going he rode through them, roped the bay pony, cut it loose from its mate, and shortening up his lariat and sticking the spurs into his own mount, he started off over the bad land bluffs.
“As he looked back he saw the Indians rushing out of the lodges and looking after him, shading their eyes from the sun. Then they rushed back to get their guns, and the boys brought in the horses.
“It was not long before a string of Indians were riding hot after Bruce. His horse was grain-fed and strong and tough and better able to run for a long time than the Indian ponies, which, of course, had been fed on grass. The captured pony could go fast enough, as he had no load to carry, so Bruce commenced to ride across the roughest country that he could find, down the side of one clay bluff and up the next, following a road that was heartbreaking to a rider. More than that, the sun was about to set, and before long it would be dark.
“For a little while, all the same, the Indians seemed to gain on him, and he did not feel any way sure how matters were coming out. He managed to keep ahead, however, and when it got dark, turned sharp off his course and followed the ravine down to the river, while the Indians kept riding as hard as they could in the direction that he had previously been following, and nobody knows when they stopped.
“Bruce rode down to the river and crossed to an island where he tied the bay horse in the brush with a rope that he had previously left there. Then he went on to the post and went to bed.
“The next morning he went to Steele and asked him what he would give to get the bay pony back again. Steele knew Bruce pretty well, and said to him at once, ‘You’ve got him.’
“‘Well,’ said Bruce, ‘I think I know how I could get him.’
“‘Well,’ said Steele, ‘if I were to get him he’d only be stolen again, and if you’ve got him you can have him.’
“So, presently, Bruce went over to the island and got the horse and brought him back and put him in the stable. He hadn’t much more than tied him and got out of the stable again, when he saw old Four Bears coming. Four Bears had not heard the news, because his band was camped in a different place from that of Lone Wolf, and the old man came up bubbling over with joy and told Bruce how many buffalo Lone Wolf had killed yesterday. He thought this was just as good a joke now as he had the first time he had told a similar story, and Bruce thought it a much better one. However, Bruce after a while remarked, ‘Steele’s got a new black horse in the stable. Don’t you want to come in and see it?’ Four Bears went along and went into the stable and looked at the black horse, and then saw the hips of the horse in the next stall, and stepping forward where he could see the whole of the animal, he recognized it. He hadn’t a word to say, but just clapped his hand over his mouth in surprise and walked out without a word. You can bet that Bruce watched that stable good after that, so that there was no chance for Lone Wolf to steal the horse back again.”
“Well,” exclaimed Jack, “that’s a bully story, but, what became of the horse finally?”