Sterl watched as he saw the cowboy's lean brown hand, slow and sure, creep out to touch the arching, glossy neck. "Jester, you dog-done lucky hoss! Why, I'm the kindest rider that ever threw his laig over a saddle."

"King, come here," called Leslie to the magnificent black. But it was a beautiful bay that approached at the girl's bidding. "Lady Jane, you know I'm going to ride you this morning, now don't you?" She petted the sniffing muzzle, and laid her cheek against the trim black mane. Then most of the others except King came begging for her favor. She introduced them to the cowboys as if they were persons of rank--Duke, a great rangy sorrel, almost red, pride and power in every line; Duchess, a long-tailed white mare, an aristocrat whose name was felicitous; Lord Chester, a trim gray stallion, hard to overlook even in that band.

The black still hung behind; Leslie had to go for him.

Closer at hand, his magnificent physical qualities appeared more striking.

"King," said Leslie, impressively, "this is an American cowboy, Sterl Hazelton, who is going to ride you--ride you, I said, you big devil--on our great trek."

Sterl had feared this very thing. "Leslie, don't ask me to take him--your favorite!" he protested.

"But he's not my favorite! I don't love him--well, not so much--since he threw me. Please, Sterl!"

"I only wanted to be coaxed," rejoined Sterl, lamely. "Thanks, Leslie. It's just too good to be true... I had a horse once..."

"Lead him out," said Leslie, then with surprising ease she leaped upon the bare back of Lady Jane. Red followed with Jester, and Sterl gently urged the black to join them.

"King, let's look each other over," said Sterl, as he let go of the mane and squared away in front of the horse. King threw up his noble head, and his black eyes had a piercing curiosity. But he was not in the least afraid. Sterl put out a confident hand to rub his nose.

"Saddle up, boys," said Leslie, slipping off. "Let's get this trip to town over. I don't mind showing you to the girls, because they'll be left behind, except Beryl Dann. And I just hate to present you to her."

Sterl did not voice his surprise, but Red blurted out. "An' 'cause why, Leslie?"

"I'll be jealous," laughed the girl, frankly. "I'd like you both for my cavaliers. Oh, Beryl is lovely, even if she is spoiled and proud. Her father is lord of the manor, so to speak."

In short order they were mounted in the unfamiliar English saddles, and ready to ride away. King pranced a little. Sterl sensed his tremendous, latent power.

One branch of the road turned back past the house; the other, which Leslie took, crossed the creek and wound up the slope into the bush. Wattle trees sent a golden shade down upon them, singing cur-ra-wongs followed them.

"Bell magpies," said Leslie. "I love them almost as well as the kookaburras. That reminds me. Dad won't let me take all my pets."

They rode on. Thick bush began to thin out; another mile brought open country, green rolling hills and vales that looked overgrazed. Presently Sterl saw horses and cattle, and columns of smoke, and at length a big white house with great tin water tanks under the eaves.