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Updated: June 13, 2025
He rode a mettlesome, half-broken bronco, a wicked-eyed brute, which required to be conquered twice within the first hour of travel; a second and more quiet animal trailed behind at the end of a lariat, bearing the necessary equipment. Hampton forced the two into a rapid lope, striving to make the most possible out of the narrow margin of daylight remaining.
"Peter says I can have the pick of the lot, but there's only one I'd look at. He's the image of Sister. I'm going to train him so's I can take him out to run wild horses with me when he grows up." "Wild horses! The last time it was bronco busting you were going into. What's it all about, anyhow, Jude?" "You don't suppose I'm going to spend my life in Lost Chief, do you?" demanded Judith.
"The cowboys have a bucking bronco out in the corral and they're taking turns trying to ride him. Come along if you want to see the fun." It was fun, but some hard work, too, for one after another the cowboys fell out of the saddle of the bucking bronco as they tried to ride him.
He was rattled, all right; he must have given the wheel a twist the wrong way, for their car hit a jutting rock and went up in the air like a pitching bronco, and old King sailed in a beautiful curve out of the tonneau. I was glad Beryl didn't see that.
Bartholomew stuck to his levers like a man in a signal-tower, but every second brought us closer to open water. Watching him intent only on saving his first train heedless of his life I was actually ashamed to jump. While I hesitated he somehow got the brakes to set; the old 44 bucked like a bronco. It wasn't too soon.
They had poured into the Pocket in solid columns, sheeping it to the rocks, and had taken the pass before either he or Bill Johnson could get to it. All through the night the sheepmen had been crowding their flocks through the defile until there were already twenty or thirty thousand on Bronco Mesa, with fifty thousand to follow.
The animals were restive, they were stepping from side to side and an occasional snort was heard, but they quieted down when he went among them and spoke soothing words, petting an animal here, restaking another one there until he had spoken to each bronco in the outfit. The guide's next move was to step to Hippy's tent and awaken him. "What is it?
All hands on deck at two bells in the morning watch, a twenty-mile sail on a bucking bronco, then back to the ranch, where we shipped a cargo of food that would sink a tramp, A gallon or so of soup in the hold, a saddle of venison, a broiled antelope, and six vegetables in the forward hatchway, with three kinds of pie in the bunkers. It was a regular food jag three times a day.
That's all I've got to say!" exclaimed Judith stoutly, in spite of her chattering teeth. "The worst I ever did to Oscar Jefferson was to play bucking bronco on that old milch cow, Jinny, of his. And she sure-gawd could buck! But I was only a little girl then and I can prove it." "Looks as if we might be in real trouble to me!" muttered Douglas.
For an instant the issue hung in doubt whether he could hold the bronco and save her a nasty fall. The taut muscles of his lean arm and body grew rigid with the strain before the animal found its feet and the path. "Thank you," the young woman said quietly, and at once disengaged the rein from his fingers by a turn of the pony's head.
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