LET 'ER BUCK 



rific force, and the figure of his rider survived the terri- 

 ble punishment, but failed to scratch the canny, hard- 

 fighting, old outlaw. 



Angel was saddled. 



"Swing to 'im, Injun," called the bleachers. 



'Think yer can stay with 'im?" 



Then in true Indian style, the Nez Perce swung 

 gracefully into his saddle from the right side. He 

 watched with the slight suspicion of his race every 

 movement of the white wranglers for fear they might 

 be "gypping" him. His figure, straight as an arrow, 

 leaned forward a moment and old Jackson peeked 

 over his saddle horn when they went to hook in his 

 halter rope, to make sure that it was snapped in the 

 lower and proper ring of the halter, then looked at Lee 

 Caldwell, who, stepping nearer, sized it up and nodded. 

 Old Jackson was satisfied. 



"Scratch 'im from the start. Make a ride in the first 

 three jumps," Lee had advised, "and then clamp down 

 on him and get set for the rest of your ride." 



"Ugh! me ride him for everything." By which he 

 meant he wanted first or nothing. 



When the blindfold was pulled off the big bay piv- 

 otted twice and then seemed nearly to reach heaven in 

 a series of high, long jumps of the kind which have 

 spelled defeat for many a rider. 



Sundown dug his spurs into Angel's shoulders, 

 stuck them into his flanks, and then clamped down on 

 the third jump as Caldwell had advised. Once set, he 

 then goaded him to his worst. It was a supurb figure, 

 beautifully proportioned, narrow-waisted and riding 

 like a centaur ; his hat, bound with its shimmering, silk- 

 en-colored kerchief, swung out and down at every leap; 

 poised for an infinitesimal fraction of a second seem- 



204 



