One of the most important of the many industries of the ranch was the breeding of horses for the Eastern market. Mr. Melton had a number of fine horses, but the most valuable of all was Satan, a big black stallion. His pedigree was as long as his flowing tail, and physically he was a perfect specimen. His only drawback was a fiendish temper, which it seemed impossible to subdue. Strangers he would never tolerate, and Mr. Melton seemed to be the only man on the ranch that could go near him without running a chance of being badly kicked or bitten. Even he was always very careful to keep an eye out for mischief whenever in the neighborhood of the stallion.

All the cowboys hated Satan, and with good reason. More than one of them bore marks of the horse's sharp teeth, and all of them could tell stories of narrow escapes experienced while feeding him or otherwise going through duties that called them into the neighborhood of the beautiful but vicious animal.

He was pastured in lonely grandeur in a spacious corral, shunned by all, but apparently happy enough in spite of this. The three boys often watched him at a safe distance, and regretted that his evil temper made it impossible to be friendly with him. Satan often lost many a lump of sugar or delicious carrot that he would have gotten had he been of a more friendly nature, in this way resembling many humans who build up a wall of reserve or ill-temper about them, and so lose many of the good things of life.

Soon after the arrival of the boys at the ranch Mr. Melton decided to purchase another stallion, as the demand for good horses at that time was exceptionally great. Accordingly, one day another horse made his appearance in a corral adjacent to that in which Satan was kept. The new horse was a good-sized bay, but not quite as large as Satan, although a little younger. The two corrals were separated by a double fence, so that, while the two horses could get within a few feet of each other, they could never get close enough to fight.

From the very beginning they exhibited a mutual hatred, and it was evident that if they ever got within striking distance of each other there would be trouble. Everybody on the ranch was strictly enjoined to keep the gates between the corrals securely fastened, however, and there seemed no possibility of the two rivals meeting.

"But if they ever should," one of the men had remarked, "there'd be some scrap, take it from me. There's nothing in the world worse than a fight between two stallions."

"Why, are they so vicious about it?" Bert, who was standing near, had asked.

"Vicious!" exclaimed the cowboy, "why, vicious ain't no word for it, nohow. They're just devils let loose, that's all."

It was only a few days after this that, as the boys were seated around the table in the ranch house eating luncheon, in company with their host, one of the cowboys dashed into the room, breathless and red of face.

"Satan an' the bay are fightin'," he cried; "somebody must 'a' left the gates open an'——"

But Mr. Melton did not wait to hear any more. Leaping to his feet he dashed through the door in the direction of the corrals. The three comrades followed close on his heels. As they reached the open they could hear shouts and cries and the thudding of hoofs. Mr. Melton increased his pace, and in a few moments they had reached the scene of action.

And it was a fearsome sight that met their eyes. The two big stallions, the black and the bay, were both in Satan's corral, fighting furiously, with a rage and viciousness that words are inadequate to describe. They circled rapidly about, biting at each other with their long yellow teeth, and lashing out with their hoofs. Each was quick as a flash of light, but every once in a while a sharp hoof would find its mark, or the deadly teeth would rip into the other's skin. Blood flowed freely, but neither seemed to notice the wounds that the other inflicted. They had longed to decide the question of supremacy ever since the newcomer's arrival, and now they were determined to settle the matter.

Satan was the stronger of the two, however, and probably in addition possessed a more evil temper than his rival. Biting, screaming, kicking, he circled about his enemy, his savage heart bent on the destruction of the upstart who had dared to invade his domains. As Mr. Melton and the boys dashed up, the black horse whirled like lightning and planted both hind hoofs with deadly effect. The bay horse staggered, but his spirit was still unconquered, and, recovering himself, he rushed for Satan with a ferocity almost as great as his.

"Stop them! separate them!" shouted Mr. Melton; "what are you standing around watching them for? One or the other of them will be killed soon, if we don't do something."

It was but a few moments since the horses had started fighting, although it had seemed much longer. At first the cowboys had seemed in a sort of stupor, so suddenly had the thing happened, but at Mr. Melton's words they sprang into activity. Some of them ran to get pitchforks, while others secured lariats from their saddles and hurried back to the scene of battle.

The bay horse was now getting much the worst of it, and it became evident that if the two infuriated animals were not separated soon the later arrival would either be killed or else so badly hurt that he would have to be shot eventually.

Some of the cowboys rushed into the corral and with shouts and cries endeavored to separate the combatants. The stallions took not the slightest notice of them, however, except to lash out savagely at them whenever they came within striking distance.

"They can't do anything that way," muttered Mr. Melton. "Here," he exclaimed, snatching a coiled lariat from one of his men, "I'll get in there myself and put an end to this business, or know the reason why."

Lasso in hand he rushed toward the corral, and in a few seconds was inside. Fortunately, just as he entered the inclosure, the stallions, exhausted with their efforts, drew apart and stood snorting and pawing the ground. Mr. Melton realized that here was his opportunity, and grasped it on the instant. Swinging the loop in great circles about his head he took careful aim and let go. The rope whizzed through the air, and the lithe coils settled about Satan's neck.

For a second the black stallion was taken by surprise. He rolled his bloodshot eyes toward his owner, but for a brief space made no move. Then with a loud snort of rage he rushed toward the ranchowner, his foam-flecked jaws gnashing and the breath whistling through his red nostrils. Mr. Melton stood quiet, but alert, every muscle tense. Then, when the infuriated stallion was almost upon him, with an agility that it seemed impossible one of his bulk could possess, he leaped to one side, and started running backward.

At the same moment he threw the whirling, writhing coil of rope with such sure aim that it settled with beautiful precision over Satan's powerful shoulders. Before the rope could tighten, however, the black stallion had whirled, and was again making for the ranchman.

When the horse was almost upon him Mr. Melton once more leaped aside, and with a dexterous flick on the rope pulled the loop down over Satan's back. Before the horse could check his headlong speed Mr. Melton had worked the loop down about his legs. With a quick jerk he pulled it taut, and Satan, suddenly hobbled, fell to the earth with a crash.

Several of the cowboys ran up, and in a few seconds the stallion was securely trussed up. The bay stallion in the meantime had retreated to the farthest corner of the corral, and was standing there dejectedly, all the fight gone out of him. He was quickly secured and led back into his own inclosure. Very carefully Satan was then loosed a trifle, and allowed to struggle to his feet. He was still "hunting trouble," as one of the men expressed it, but with the confining ropes about his fetlocks was powerless. He was left hobbled, and the gate to his corral was fastened securely this time.

"That was sure a great ropin' stunt you pulled off, boss," said "Curley" to Mr. Melton. "I never seen the trick done neater, nohow."

"It was great!" Bert exclaimed. "I didn't know you were such an expert roper, Mr. Melton."

"It wasn't so bad for an old fellow," admitted his host with a smile; "it took some pretty quick sidestepping to get out of Satan's way, I'll admit. But when I was twenty years younger I used to rope cattle for a living, and narrow escapes were part of the business."

He turned and gave a few directions to the men, together with strict injunctions to keep the two gates between the corrals closed.

"If anything like this happens again," he warned, "somebody's going to get fired pretty pronto, savvy? And do all you can for the bay. I don't think he's seriously hurt, and if we're careful we can bring him back into shape all right."

After this, he and the boys returned to the ranch house, where they discussed the recent exciting happenings pro and con. The boys had planned to take an exploring expedition that afternoon, but all thought of this was banished from their minds. After a while they returned to the stables, where the stallions were having their wounds doctored. It appeared that, as Mr. Melton had surmised, neither was very badly injured physically, but the bay stallion's spirit seemed utterly broken. After many days, however, he regained the pride which had been so rudely shattered in his encounter with Satan, and proved to be a valuable horse. He was of a more gentle disposition also, and accepted the overtures of friendship that the boys made toward him, so that before their visit at the ranch came to a close they were on very good terms with him.