ONE afternoon years ago in the cattle days of the old West, Dan Harper, a ranch owner, was out on the range with three of his men, Web Wright, Bob Martin, and Charley Pratt. They were riding four abreast toward a high ridge, beyond which lay Big Pine Creek with its growth of woods and brush on either side.
At the foot of the ridge Dan pulled his horse to a stop and so did the others. Dan said: “We know that old mare and her colt are over this ridge because we’ve seen them there. Let’s spread out here and come at her from opposite directions. She may try to run this way to get to open country and we might be able to drop a loop over her head and maybe another one over her yearling colt’s, too.”
Charley Pratt, much younger than the other men, was only eighteen years old. He was tall, lean, and sun-tanned, having grown up in the saddle. Excitement shone in his dark eyes as he looked intently at Dan Harper and listened to his instructions. The riders were to spread out as they went over the ridge in order to come at old Blue Streak from opposite directions and take her by surprise.
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