CHAPTER X

Like a carved statue the bronco stood, silent, immobile. As an arrow pauses for a moment at its zenith before descending. As a gunner, intent on destruction, takes deadly aim before he pulls the trigger. Thus the bronco stood.

Suddenly his back arched. His feet bunched together. Seemingly without effort he arose straight into the air.

“Stick to him! Stick—”

He came down stiff-legged. The shock jerked Teddy’s head forward. The boy grunted, and those watching saw his hand come down on the horse’s flank in a tremendous slap.

“On your way, baby! Take me off!”

The bronco leaped to one side and turned like a reed in a whirlwind. Then he sprang upward again.

“Don’t let him roll, Teddy!” Nick, prancing about on his own horse, was yelling with excitement. “Hang on, boy!”

Teddy hung on. Not with his hands, but with his knees alone did he remain upright. He had not “gone to leather.”

The horse, frustrated for the moment, remained quiet. But he had only begun to open his bag of tricks. Of a sudden he reared high, came down, and rolled sideways. He hit the ground with a thud.

But Teddy was ready for this—was waiting for it. As the horse neared the ground he slipped from the saddle and stood straddling the pony as he lay on the earth, and when the bronco leaped up again Teddy was in the saddle.

Pop shouted his approval.

“That’s the stuff, Teddy! Fooled him then! Yea, bo! Look at him ride!”

Maddened to find that weight still on his back, when he had expected to dislodge it easily, the pony began a series of bucks that caused the watchers to gasp with fear for Teddy’s safety. The boy pulled his hat from his head and slapped the pony with it.

“He’s fannin’ him! Go to it, puncher! Make him hang out the white flag! Snakes, did you see—”

Discarding for a moment his frantic jumping, the bronco headed for the bars of the corral. Reaching them, he swerved, and sought to scrape Teddy off. The boy’s leathern chaps prevented real injury, but Roy saw his brother’s face go white with the pain of the shock.

“Nick!” he called. “Get between him! Want me to take him, Teddy?” He stood upon the second rail from the top, bracing himself, and loosened his lariat.

“No! No! Don’t throw! I’m all right! This bronc is mine!”

“Full of nerve, that kid,” Pop said in a low voice. “Get close to him, Nick.”

The cowboy had already started. As the wild horse skirted the bars, Nick put himself between the rails and Teddy. Every time the bronco made for the corral fence he found Nick’s horse blocking his way.

He gave this up with a suddenness that was characteristic. He pranced like a dancer toward the center of the enclosure.

“You’ve got him, Teddy!” Roy shouted gleefully. “He’s shown about all his stuff!”

It seemed as though Roy was right. Gradually the horse became calmer. The whites of his eyes went under, and more of the pupil showed. The stiffness went out of his legs.

“All right, pony,” Teddy said soothingly. “Let’s run around a bit, hey? Now—into a gallop!”

He let the reins hang slack. The horse looked around inquiringly, puzzled for a moment. What happened next is still unexplained by those watching, and Teddy has only a hazy idea of it. It was all too quick—too unexpected.

The strap binding the saddle to the horse—the cinch strap—parted. Terrified at this sudden sensation, the pony started bucking again. There were three other girths about the belly, but these broke like paper ribbons. The hind feet went up in the air, and Teddy and the saddle shot over the bronco’s head.

Teddy lit with arms out-stretched, taking the shock evenly. The moment he hit the ground he rolled, and avoided the pony’s hoofs by a fraction of an inch. Dazed, he staggered to his feet.

“Stay there, Teddy! Don’t move! I’ll get him!”

It was Roy, standing upright on his perilous perch, lariat whirling in a wide circle.

The pony, seeing a defenseless man before him, and realizing that here was the author of his misfortunes, started forward, snorting viciously. His lips were drawn back and the teeth showed white and savage. All his former rage again took possession of him.

Nick and Pop leaped their horses toward the maddened bronco. Even then they could see that their efforts were useless, that the wild horse was too close to Teddy for them to reach him on time.

“He’s done! Roy, he’s—”

At that moment the loop left Roy’s hand. Strangely, he thought of Bug Eye and his automatic lawnmower as he watched the loop snake out. In time of great stress one’s mind plays queer tricks.

Teddy was too weak from his fall to move. He stood there, arms before him to ward off the brute, and waited for the end.

But the pony never reached him. Roy’s lariat settled over the bronco’s neck. Like a flash the boy twisted the end he held about a post.

With a jerk that drew from him a scream of pain, the pony’s dash was halted. He twisted, and bit at the rope that held him. In that second Nick and Pop bent low in their saddles, seized Teddy, and carried him to safety.

The pony was still struggling with the lariat as Roy ran toward his brother. There was no more danger now—the rope was firmly on, and each movement of the horse drew it tighter. At present he had no time for living enemies with that coil of fire about his neck.

“Teddy! Are you—”

Teddy laughed weakly.

“Nope, not quite, Roy. Just a little numb. I didn’t expect that fall. Maybe—” he staggered, and Roy seized his arm.

“You come over to the house now. That was one bad spill. Look here—don’t cave in yet!”

“No danger.” Teddy smiled at his brother. “Just bent over to see if my legs were still there. They feel kind of—missing.”

Pop chuckled.

“Don’t wonder, son. If that’d been me I’d have felt all missin’. But Roy’s right—in the house for yours. What under the sun made that cinch strap break?”

Teddy shook his head. “It’s beyond me. Everything happened so quickly I didn’t have time to take an observation. Roy, that was a wonderful throw of yours. Standing on the rails! If you hadn’t, I—”

“Just what Bug Eye did to stop his lawnmower,” Roy declared, and grinned. “Funny, as the rope left my hand I was thinking of him. I figured he could do it, so—”

Teddy reached out and rested his hand on his brother’s shoulder.

“I’ll let you get away with it, Roy, old boy,” he said quietly. “We won’t talk about what would have happened if you’d missed. Let’s get out of here.”

The three walked toward the gate. Pop and Nick had dismounted, and had turned their ponies loose. They watched Teddy carefully, to see that he was able to walk without assistance.

“Don’t bother about me,” the boy laughed as he saw them staring at him. “And for the love of Pete, don’t anybody mention it to mother. I don’t want her to worry.”

“If she worried, Teddy, you’d never know it,” Pop said in a low voice. “She knows a man on a ranch can’t be safe all the time. She’d take it standing up, and never a whimper out of her.”

They came to the gate, and went through. Teddy turned and looked at Pop.

“You’re right, Pop. In all my life I’ve not heard her say she was afraid. Roy, let’s go in. Want to put some liniment on my leg.”

Nick and Pop stood at the foot of the steps as the two brothers entered the door of the ranch house. They gazed in open admiration at the departing figures.

“The best thing I can say about ’em—” said Nick musingly, “the thing that takes in all the rest of it—is that they’re the sons of their mother and father. Come on, Pop, let’s eat.”