The rider walked straight up to the trembling Wildfire.When Wildfire plunged and reared up and up the rider leaped for the bridle and with an iron arm pulled the horse down.Wildfire tried again, almost lifting the rider, but a stinging cut from the lasso made him come to a stand.Plainly the rider held the mastery.
"Dad!" called Lucy, faintly.
Bostil went forward, close, while the rider held Wildfire.Lucy was as wan-faced as a flower by moonlight.Her eyes were dark with emotions, fear predominating.Then for Bostil the half of his heart that was human reasserted itself.Lucy was only a girl now, and weakening.Her fear, her pitiful little smile, as if she dared not hope for her father's approval yet could not help it, touched Bostil to the quick, and he opened his arms.Lucy slid down into them.
"Lucy, girl, you've won the King's race an' double-crossed your poor old dad!""Oh, Dad, I never knew--I never dreamed Wildfire--would jump the King," Lucy faltered."I couldn't hold him.He was terrible....It made me sick....
Daddy, tell me Van wasn't hurt--or the King!""The hoss's all right an' so's Van," replied Bostil."Don't cry, Lucy.It was a fool trick you pulled off, but you did it great.By Gad! you sure was ridin'
thet red devil....An' say, it's all right with me!"Lucy did not faint then, but she came near it.Bostil put her down and led her through the lines of admiring Indians and applauding riders, and left her with the women.
When he turned again he was in time to see the strange rider mount Wildfire.
It was a swift and hazardous mount, the stallion being in the air.When he came down he tore the turf and sent it flying, and when he shot up again he was doubled in a red knot, bristling with fiery hair, a furious wild beast, mad to throw the rider.Bostil never heard as wild a scream uttered by a horse.Likewise he had never seen so incomparable a horseman as this stranger.
Indians and riders alike thrilled at a sight which was after their own hearts.
The rider had hooked his long spurs under the horse and now appeared a part of him.He could not be dislodged.This was not a bucking mustang, but a fierce, powerful, fighting stallion.No doubt, thought Bostil, this fight took place every time the rider mounted his horse.It was the sort of thing riders loved.
Most of them would not own a horse that would not pitch.Bostil presently decided, however, that in the case of this red stallion no rider in his right senses would care for such a fight, simply because of the extraordinary strengths, activity, and ferocity of the stallion.
The riders were all betting the horse would throw the stranger.And Bostil, seeing the gathering might of Wildfire's momentum, agreed with them.No horseman could stick on that horse.Suddenly Wildfire tripped in the sage, and went sprawling in the dust, throwing his rider ahead.Both man and beast were quick to rise, but the rider had a foot in the stirrup before Wildfire was under way.Then the horse plunged, ran free, came circling back, and slowly gave way to the rider's control.Those few moments of frenzied activity had brought out the foam and the sweat--Wildfire was wet.The man pulled him in before Bostil and dismounted.
"Sometimes I ride him.then sometimes I don't," he said, with a smile.
Bostil held out his hand.He liked this rider.He would have liked the frank face, less hard than that of most riders, and the fine, dark eyes, straight and steady, even if their possessor had not come with the open sesame to Bostil's regard--a grand, wild horse, and the nerve to ride him.
"Wal, you rode him longer 'n any of us figgered " said Bostil, heartily shaking the man's hand."I'm Bostil.Glad to meet you.""My name's Slone--Lin Slone," replied the rider, frankly."I'm a wild-horse hunter an' hail from Utah.""Utah? How'd you ever get over? Wal, you've got a grand hoss--an' you put a grand rider up on him in the race....My girl Lucy--"Bostil hesitated.His mind was running swiftly.Back of his thoughts gathered the desire and the determination to get possession of this horse Wildfire.He had forgotten what he might have said to this stranger under different circumstances.He looked keenly into Slone's face and saw no fear, no subterfuge.The young man was honest.
"Bostil, I chased this wild horse days an' weeks an' months, hundreds of miles--across the canyon an' the river--""No!" interrupted Bostil, blankly.
"Yes.I'll tell you how later....Out here somewhere I caught Wildfire, broke him as much as he'll ever be broken.He played me out an' got away.Your girl rode along--saved my horse--an' saved my life, too.I was in bad shape for days.But I got well-- an'--an' then she wanted me to let her run Wildfire in the big race.I couldn't refuse....An' it would have been a great race but for the unlucky accident to Sage King.I'm sorry, sir.""Slone, it jarred me some, thet disappointment.But it's over," replied Bostil."An' so thet's how Lucy found her hoss.She sure was mysterious....
Wal, wal." Bostil became aware of others behind him."Holley, shake hands with Slone, hoss-wrangler out of Utah....You, too, Cal Blinn....An'
Macomber--an' Wetherby, meet my friend here--young Slone....An', Cordts, shake hands with a feller thet owns a grand hoss!"Bostil laughed as he introduced the horse-thief to Slone.The others laughed, too, even Cordts joining in.There was much of the old rider daredevil spirit left in Bostil, and it interested and amused him to see Cordts and Slone meet.
Assuredly Slone had heard of the noted stealer of horses.The advantage was certainly on Cordts's side, for he was good-natured and pleasant while Slone stiffened, paling slightly as he faced about to acknowledge the introduction.
"Howdy, Slone," drawled Cordts, with hand outstretched."I sure am glad to meet yuh.I'd like to trade the Sage King for this red stallion!"A roar of laughter greeted this sally, all but Bostil and Slone joining in.
The joke was on Bostil, and he showed it.Slone did not even smile.
