Grace Harlowes Overland Riders on the Great American Desert | Page 6

in a low
voice. "Watch your step."
Grace acknowledged the warning with a brief nod, watching the black's
head narrowly. The animal still stood with forefeet braced apart, head
slightly lowered, ears, it seemed, flatter than ever.
"If I miss it I'm lost," muttered Grace, referring to the stirrup.
"Ready," warned the voice of the guide.
The girl's left hand holding the bridle rein crept cautiously to the
pommel of the saddle.
"Now!"
Grace's left foot caught the stirrup and, like a flash, the Overland girl
landed hard and firmly seated on the saddle, the right foot in the stirrup
on that side, then, with the aid of stirrup and cantle, she braced herself
to meet the shock that she knew was right at hand.
CHAPTER II
AN "OUTLAW" MEETS HIS MATCH
The black did not move a muscle for a few seconds, then, with a
sudden turn of the head, he made a grab for his rider's leg.
Grace, never having taken her eyes from the laid-back ears, gave a
quick kick with her left foot, catching the pony fairly on the nose. As
he hastily withdrew his head, she took advantage of the opportunity to
tighten up on the reins, which brought the animal's head well up.
All these preparatory activities were observed with intense interest by
cowboys and Overlanders.

"Watch him!" called Hi Lang in an urgent tone.
Grace was watching, her every faculty beat to the task of discovering
what the next move of her mount was to be.
The black, as she tightened the rein, reared high in the air until his rider
seemed to be standing straight up. One moment she felt that they were
both going to fall over backwards, and was about to clear the stirrups to
jump. Instead she brought her crop down on the black's head, with a
resounding whack.
"Yeow!" howled the cowboys, but Grace did not hear them, for the
pony had dropped to all fours, and no sooner had his feet touched the
ground than he leaped clear of it, coming down stiff-legged with a jolt
that jarred Grace Harlowe throughout her body in spite of her effort to
soften the shock by throwing most of her weight on the stirrups.
"He's going to buck," warned the steady voice of Hi Lang.
Grace knew it in advance of the guide's warning, but, though she
tugged with all her might, she was not strong enough to get the black
bronco's head up so he could not carry out his intention. There followed
a series of bucks and squeals, accompanied with flying hoofs, that sent
the spectators fleeing for safety.
As for the Overland girl, her head was spinning, her hair was down and
her sombrero long since had fallen off and been trampled in the alkali
dust by the hoofs of her mount. The jolting she was getting was almost
more than she could endure and sharp pains were shooting through her
body. This bronco indeed was a master at the art of bucking, but
vicious as were his movements the black had not succeeded in ridding
himself of his rider.
"Look out!" yelled the guide.
All four feet went from under the pony and he struck the ground on his
side with a force that brought a grunt from him. In the cloud of dust the
spectators thought that Grace had been caught under the horse and

crashed. Emma Dean uttered a cry of alarm, and Nora Wingate turned
her head away that she might not see.
"She's all right!" shouted Hiram Lang, who had sprung forward to give
assistance if it were needed.
The pony had thrown itself on its right side. Mr. Lang found Grace
sitting calmly on the side of the saddle, free of the body of the horse,
but breathing heavily. Her quickness had been the means of her
disengaging herself as the bronco threw himself to the ground.
After giving the black a few seconds on his side, the Overland Rider
brought her crop down on his rump with a vicious whack. It stung. Like
a flash the pony was on his feet, with Grace's feet now planted firmly in
the stirrups.
As Grace had expected, the bucking was resumed the instant the pony
felt the smart of the crop. How the dust did fly then, and how those
cowboy wranglers did yell!
"Who's a tenderfoot!" howled Hippy Wingate. "Just watch her smoke."
Grace Harlowe's whole body was weary, but her grit was not
diminishing in the least. However, she decided that the time had arrived
when she must do a little fighting for herself, and not leave it all to the
pony, so, having arrived at this decision, Grace watched narrowly for a
favorable opportunity to begin.
The opportunity came a few seconds