"I WAS A STRANGER, AND YE TOOK ME IN"
As Shock stood, uncertain as to his next move, he noticed that out of the confused mingling of men and horses order began to appear.
The course was once more being cleared.The final heat, which the Swallow had won, and which had been protested by the owner of the Demon, on the ground that his course had been blocked by Shock and his cayuse, was to be run again.Shock was too much occupied with his own disappointment and uncertainty to take much interest in the contest that was the occasion of such intense excitement to the throngs on the street.With languid indifference he watched the course being cleared and the competitors canter back to the starting point.Behind them followed a cavalcade of horsemen on all sorts of mounts, from the shaggy little cayuse, with diminishing rump, to the magnificent thoroughbred stallion, stall-fed and shining.In the final heat it was the custom for all the horsemen in the crowd to join at a safe distance behind the contestants, in a wild and tumultuous scramble.
Shock's attention was arrested and his interest quickened by the appearance of Ike in the crowd, riding a hard-looking, bony, buckskin broncho, which he guessed to be Slipper.
In a short time the Demon and the Swallow were in their places.Far behind them bunched the motley crowd of horsemen.
The start was to be by the pistol shot, and from the scratch.So intense was the stillness of the excited crowd that, although the starting point was more than half a mile out on the prairie, the crack of the pistol was clearly heard.
In immediate echo the cry arose, "They're off! They're off!" and necks were strained to catch a glimpse of the first that should appear where the course took a slight turn.
In a few seconds the two leading horses are seen, the riders low over their necks, and behind them, almost hidden by the dust, the crowd of yelling, waving, shooting horsemen.
The Demon is leading, the Swallow close on his flank.As they come within clear view the experienced eyes of the crowd see that while the Demon, though as yet untouched by whip or spur, is doing all that is in him, the Swallow is holding him easily.On all sides the men of the west raise a paean of victory, "The Swallow! The Swallow!
Good boy, Kiddie! Let her go! Let her go!" "You've got him standing!" "Bully boy!"Fifty yards from the winning post The Kid leans over his mare's neck and shakes out his fluttering reins.Like the bird whose name she bears the Swallow darts to the front, a length ahead.In vain the Captain calls to the Demon, plying fiercely whip and spur.With nostrils distended and blood-red, with eyes starting from their sockets, and mouth foaming bloody froth, the noble animal responds and essays his final attempt.
It is a magnificent effort.Slowly he creeps up to the Swallow's flank, but beyond that he cannot make an inch, and so they remain to the winning post.
Down the street behind the leaders, yelling wild oaths, shooting off their guns, flinging hats in the air, and all enveloped in a cloud of dust, thunders the pursuing cavalcade.
Just as the Swallow shoots to the front, out from the cloud of dust behind, with his cowboy hat high in one hand and his reins fluttering loosely in the other, Ike emerges on his beloved Slipper.
At every bound the buckskin gains upon the runners in front, but when level with the Demon, Ike steadies him down, for he would not be guilty of the bad taste of "shoving his nose into another man's fight," nor would he deprive the little mare, who carried the fortunes of the men of the west, of the glory of her victory.
The riot that follows the race passes description.The men from the west go mad.About The Kid and his little mare they surge in a wave of frantic enthusiasm.Into the Ranchers' Roost they carry the rider to wash down the dust, while as many as can find room for a hand get vigorously to work upon the Swallow.
After the riot had somewhat subsided and the street had become partially clear, side by side, threading their way through the crowd, appeared the two competitors for the Cup.On all sides they were greeted with renewed cheers, and under the excitement of the hour they abandoned the customary reserve of the cowboy, and began performing what seemed to Shock impossible feats of horsemanship.
"I bet you I'll ride her into the Roost, Captain," cried The Kiddie.
"Done, for the drinks!" replied the Captain.
The boy cantered his mare across the street.
"Out of the way there!" he cried."Out of the way, you fellows! I'm coming!"As he spoke he put the little mare straight at the flight of steps leading up to the door of the Roost.The crowd parted hastily, but the Swallow balked and swerved, and but for the fine horsemanship of the rider he would have been thrown.
With an oath, the Kid took hold of his horse again, and riding carelessly, faced her once more at the steps.But again she plunged, reared, swung round, and set off at a run down the street.
The lad rode her easily back, brought her up to the steps at a walk, quieted her with voice and hand, and then, cantering across the street, came back again at an easy lope to the steps.The mare made as if to balk again.
"Up, girl!" cried the boy, lifting her with the rein; and then, as she rose, touching her with the spur, Like a cat the little mare clambered up the steps, and before she could change her mind she found herself through the door, standing in the bar-room with her rider on her back.
Through the outer entrance thronged the crowd of men, giving vent to their admiration in yells and oaths, and lining up at the bar waited for the payment of the bet.
