The boys slept that night in a comfortably furnished bedroom containing three cots. Before daybreak they were awake and discussing the coming day. Sunrise found them outside the ranch house, eagerly inspecting their new surroundings. But, early as they were, Mr. Reeves had been up before them and was ready to show them around.
“Now, you boys must each pick yourself out a pony,” he said, leading them toward a big corral in which several ponies were running loose.
“But we have our own,” objected Ralph, who knew what western bronchos are when they are first taken out of a corral.
“I know that,” responded Mr. Reeves, “but your ponies are pretty well tuckered out after all they went through yesterday. Fresh mounts will be very much better.”
“You have some fine ones here, too,” said Jack, who had been inspecting the twenty or more cayuses in the corral.
“Yes, Lagunitas is famous for its stock,” was the response. “Will you rope the ones you want for yourselves, or shall I tell a puncher to do it for you?”
“We’d be fine Rangers if we couldn’t rope our own ponies,” laughed Jack.
So saying, he selected a rope from several which were hanging on the corral posts. He tried it out and found it a good, pliant bit of rawhide. In the meantime Walt and Ralph had each taken another “riata” and were testing them.
So far as Ralph was concerned, his knowledge of lariat throwing was strictly limited. He had practiced a bit on the Merrill ranch, but he did not know much about the art—for an art it is to throw a rope with precision and accuracy.