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Updated: June 10, 2025
Too often, in headlong pursuit of a wild hill steer, he had whirled as on a dollar, to leave him any doubt now. Scarce slackening speed, he swept the pinto round the clump of mesquite and was off for home. Dave was halfway back before he was sure that the thud of Whiskey Bill's hoofs was almost at his heels. He called on the cowpony for a last spurt.
You practice with your guns getting ready for your murders which you call fair fights. Fair fights! As well race a thoroughbred against a cowpony! You wrong a man and then bully him. That's Western fair play! But I swear to you, Mr. Perris, that if you so much as touch your weapon I'll have my men run you down and whip you out of the mountains!"
If he had had nothing to consider except his own inclination, he would have slapped the saddle upon a cowpony and ridden in to Battle Butte at once. But Beulah had laid an interdict upon him. For a year he had been trying to persuade her to marry him, and he knew that he must say good-bye to his hopes if he fought with his enemy. It was fear that kept Meldrum at home.
The exponent of sweetness and light leaned forward and clung desperately to the mane, crying, "Whoa! Stop! Desist!" But Blue Streak had no intention of desisting as long as the roan was in front. Tex Lindsay's horse was a racer. No other animal was going to pass it. The legs of the dark horse stretched for the road. It flew past the cowpony as though the latter had been trotting.
No sooner did the loop twirl through the air than the trained cowpony braced itself backward. There was a swirl of dust in the air. The herd raced madly across the flat to the safety of the canyon beyond and the girls saw that Tommy had succeeded. A cow was scrambling to her feet, bellowing with rage.
Suddenly a rope would snake forward past half a dozen broncos and drop about the neck of an animal near the heart of the herd. The twisting, dodging cowpony would surrender instantly and submit to being cut out from the band. Saddles were slapped on in a hurry and the riders were again on their way. Through the mesquite they rode, slackening speed for neither gullies nor barrancas.
A man cannot tumble from a running horse, let himself be dragged forty yards, and then slip his foot from the stirrup of a cowpony that has become frightened without taking a big chance. But it was his business to take chances. He always had taken them. And he knew that they could be minimized by careful preparation, expertness, and cool skill of execution.
"He's been livin' soft too long, don't you reckon?" "No, sir. He just didn't have the sand in his craw to hang on and finish you off whilst you was rippin' up his laigs." Dave roped his mount and rode out to meet Chiquito. The pinto was an aristocrat in his way. He preferred to choose his company, was a little disdainful of the cowpony that had no accomplishments.
Once more she got into the saddle and gave the word. He dragged himself up a few feet and then the cowpony moved forward. The legs of the man doubled up under the strain and he was crushed against the wall just as he reached the top. However, he managed to hang on and was dragged over the edge with one cheek scratched and bleeding.
"Why, he won't let me put a hand on him." "Yes, he will. Steady, Satan!" The stallion stood motionless with the veritable fires of hell in his eyes as Calder approached. The latter stopped. "Not for me," he said. "I'd rather rub the moustache of the lion in the zoo than touch that black devil!" Bart at that moment led in the cowpony and Calder started to remove the saddle.
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