came too late. Teddy had jammed into the corral fence, and
ground his rider's knee till the torture of the pain had distracted his
attention. Once more then swept round the ugly stub nose, and the yellow
teeth fastened in the leather chaps with a vicious snap that did not
entirely miss the flesh of the leg.

The boy, with a cry of pain and terror, slipped to the ground, his nerve
completely shaken. The sorrel lashed out with his hind feet, and missed
his head by a hairbreadth. Pedro turned to run, stumbled, and went down.

The outlaw was upon him like a streak, striking with sharp chiseled
forefeet at the prostrate man. Along the line of spectators ran a groan,
a kind of sobbing murmur of despair. A young Mexican who had just ridden
up flung himself from his horse and ran forward, though he knew he was
too late.

"Pedro's done for," cried one.

And so he would have been but for the watchfulness and alertness of one
man.

Dick had been ready the instant the outlaw had flung against the fence.
He had been prepared to see the boy weaken, and had anticipated it in
his forward leap. The furious animal had risen to drive home his hoofs,
when an arm shot out, caught the bridle, and dragged him sideways. This
unexpected intervention dazed the animal; and while he still stood
uncertain, Gordon swung to the saddle and dug his heels into the
bleeding sides.

As to a signal the bronco rose, and the battle was on again.

But this time the victory was not in doubt to the onlookers after the
first half-dozen jumps. For this man rode like a master. He held a close
but easy seat, and a firm rein, along which ran the message of an iron
will to the sensitive foaming mouth which held the bit tight-clamped.

This brown, lithe man was all bone and sinew and muscle. He rode like a
Centaur, as if he were a part of the horse, as easily and gracefully as
a chip does the waves. The outlaw was furious with hate, blind with a
madness that surged through it; but all its weaving and fence-rowing
could not shake the perfect poise of the rider, nor tinge with fear the
glad fighting edge that throbbed like a trumpet-call in the blood.

Slowly the certainty of this sifted to the animal. The pitches grew less
volcanic, died presently into fitful mechanical rises and falls that
foretold the finish. Its spirit broken, with that terrible incubus of a
human clothes-pin still clamped to the saddle, Teddy gave up, and for
the first time hung his head