ifficult to set down in words the gyrations of a man when
he is playing that he is a broncho and is trying to dislodge the
fellow upon his back. Big Medicine reared and kicked and bellowed and
snorted. He came down upon a small "pin-cushion" cactus and was
obliged to call a recess while he extracted three cactus spines from
his knee with his smallest knife-blade and some profanity.

He rolled down his trousers' leg, closed his knife and tossed it to
Pink for fear he might lose it, examined critically a patch of grass
to make sure there were no more cacti hidden there and bawled: "Come
on, now, I'll sure give yuh a run for your money _this_ time, by
cripes!" and began all over again.

How human muscles can bear the strain he put upon his own must be
always something of a mystery. He described curves in the air which
would sound incredible; he "swapped ends" with all the ease of a real
fighting broncho and came near sending Irish off more than once.
Insensibly he neared the cook-tent, where Patsy so far forgot himself
as to stand just without the lifted flap and watch the fun with sour
interest.

"Ah-h _want_ yuh!" yelled Big Medicine, quite purple but far from
surrender, and gave a leap.

"Go _get_ me!" shouted Irish, whipping down the sides of his mount
with his hat.

Big Medicine answered the taunt by a queer, twisted plunge which he
had saved for the last. It brought Irish spread-eagling over his head,
and it landed him fairly in the middle of Patsy's great pan of soft
bread "sponge"--and landed him upon his head into the bargain. Irish
wriggled there a moment and came up absolutely unrecognizable and a
good deal dazed. Big Medicine rolled helplessly in the grass, laughing
his big, bellowing laugh.

It was straight into that laugh and the great mouth from where it
issued, that Patsy, beside himself with rage at the accident,
deposited all the soft dough which was not clinging to the head and
face of Irish. He was not content with that. While the Happy Family
roared appreciation of the spectacle, Patsy returned with a kettle of
meat and tried to land that neatly upon the dough.

"Py cosh, if dat iss der vay you wants your grub, py cosh, dat iss der
vay you gets it alreatty!" he brought the coffee-boiler and threw that
also at the two, and followed it with a big basin of stewed corn.

Irish, all dough as he was, went for him blindly and grappled with
him, and it was upon this turbulent scene which Chip looked