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Updated: May 8, 2025
Listening, the latter heard a suppressed little puppyish protest, as though its maker were very sleepy, a moment later the soft, recognising whinny of a broncho, and then, startlingly sudden as the figure had first emerged from the tent, it appeared again, mounted, by his side.
Broncho busting, steer-roping and tying, rifle and revolver shooting, trick riding and fancy roping made up the main features of the programme and were to be set off by horse and foot racing and other county fair necessities.
The broncho obeyed willingly, as if he understood. Van took up the saddle, carried it off a bit, and dropped it as before. Beth still remained there, with the blanket at her feet. Van addressed her. "Got any matches?" "No," she said. "I'm afraid " "Neither have I," he interrupted. "No fire in the dressing-room. Good-night. No need to set the alarm clock. I'll wake you bright and early."
It is not galloping on the turf; it is being shaken and tossed in a saddle which the knees can never grip, on the back of something gone mad for the maddest, wisest, carefullest thing on earth is a broncho, which itself was once a wild pony of the hills, and has been hunted down, thrown by the lasso, saddled, bridled and heart-broken all in an hour.
Seeing that all his explanations made things worse, Charlie abruptly left, mounted his broncho, and went "rockity rockity" as the pony's heels went "puff, puff" on the dusty trail around the hill and away. The doctor was not to be found that morning and Belle found it hard to await his return.
He heaped the remains of the wood he had gathered upon the fire, and with great difficulty, for his foot was growing more and more painful with every move, he set about gathering wood, of which there was abundance near at hand, and making himself snug for the night. He brought up a pail of water from the Creek, and tethered his broncho where there was a bunch of grass at the bottom of the ravine.
He seemed to be shrinking from such speed, but as a matter of fact he was poised and balanced nicely for any chance whirl. When it had gained full speed the broncho pitched high in the air, snapped its head and heels close together, and came down stiff-legged. Marianne sympathetically felt that impact jar home in her brain but the rider kept his seat. Worse was coming.
His own lean broncho, long trained to such work, scrambled along in that odd, short-legged trot, and Harris himself, trained to perfection, hard and dry, all sinewy strength, rode easily along he could have done almost as well afoot at the head of his men, keeping them to their pace, yet never overdriving. But with Willett the case was different. For him there had been no hard and dry scouting.
"You'd better be putting your rigging on the filly," as he slid from his broncho and stepped to the door of the stall. There was no answer. He peered into the half-gloom of the place. It was empty save for the two horses. "That's funny as thunder," he said, puzzled, to Bert. "Where'd you reckon th' Ramblin' Kid is?" "Darned if I know ain't he there?"
Me, I go instructed for the other chap Spurious Somebody the one that fought and pulled his freight, to fight 'em on some other day." "Anyway," summed up Broncho, "Bob's about the gamest man I ever see along the Rio Bravo. Great Sam Houston! If she gets any hotter she'll sizzle!"
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