JBIiCU, ITC ilttYC A UilUlCC lO CftlCilthe White Streak.”Slfbtcd Them By Mood lightlie then explained that he had made camp on the mountain and during the night had sighted the wild horse by moonlight. They had entered a box canyon where the grass was luxuriant and would probably graze until daylight, then they would leave the trap.We three promptly forgot all about the round up, and our rule to never run wild horses. Bach of us had. served his time as a bronc-breaker on various ranches in Texas and New Mexico and the urge to capture a wild horse, especially one as noted as the White Streak, was overwhelming. Soon our horses were caught, and in the cold, crisp dawn, we rode up Lumber canyontowards the ton of the Escondidoorr by the gradually tightening noose. But he was like the mountain lion roped by Rex Beach. He immediately came up. But as he rose, Choc Brannin dropped a loop over his head and rode against -it. Boh McCord caught both fore feet. Gabaldon came up belatedly arid roped a hind foot. Four horses pulling against him, his wind cut off, the White Streak was hogtied and helpless at last with rope burns he would carry for life.I began unsaddling, for with us to catch a wild horse, was to ridehim. Carelessly I threw my blanketat his head. He immediately gripped it in his jaws, all the while emitting squeals and snorts while his eyes turned red with rage,Me ride that horse. I exclaimed. I'll give him to anyone who will.MU* .:hiibethean«unidelatBeereUfabrcnlt;1HaPi*ltuit.hi