Grace Harlowes Overland Riders on the Great American Desert | Page 7

later when the horse threw up his
head preparatory to pitching forward in another series of savage bucks.
Grace jerked the animal's head to one side, brought her quirt down
sharply, and, at the same time, jabbed the little black fighter with her
spurs.
She continued to apply this treatment for several seconds until the
bronco, goaded to a change of tactics, whirled and started away at a run,
driving straight through the assembled crowd. The crowd fled for their
lives with Grace unable now to do more than stay on the saddle.

The black had not gone far before he stopped as suddenly as he had
started, stopped stiff-legged, braced himself and slid on his feet through
the alkali for several yards.
Grace Harlowe had been alert for this very thing, but just the same the
suddenness of the move had nearly unhorsed her. As it was she fell
forward on the neck of the bronco, but, recovering herself before the
animal could begin bucking again, she regained her former position in
the saddle and applied crop and spur vigorously.
The bronco again tried to buck, but under Grace's lively treatment he
gave it up and started to run, and for the next few minutes pony and
rider went like a black streak across the landscape, the Overland girl
giving the pony no time for anything but to travel as fast as his legs
would carry him, until they were a full two miles from the village.
Grace finally turned him about, without resistance on the pony's part,
and raced for the corral, driving and urging the pony with crop and
word, bound to wear him down and convince him once and for all that
she was his master.
As the Overland Rider came up to the corral now at a jog trot, the
bronco covered with white foam, the cowboys broke loose. Shrill
cowboy yells, whoops and cat calls and a rattling fire of revolver shots
into the air greeted her achievement.
"Grab him, you duffers!" shouted Hi Lang, running toward the bronco
as he saw Grace wavering on her saddle. "Can't you see that game kid's
all in?"
It was only by the exercise of sheer pluck that Grace Harlowe had held
her seat on the saddle throughout that grilling ride. She had fought and
won a battle with an "outlaw" pony that many a hard- muscled cowboy
had fought only to lose. Now that she had conquered, however, Grace
felt weak and dizzy, and the reaction, she found, was worse than the
experience itself.
At Hi Lang's command, half a dozen cowboys had sprung to her

assistance, but it was Hi who held up his arms to help her down.
"Fall over. I'll catch you," he urged.
Grace shook her head and tried to smile.
"I--I think I can make it, tha--ank you," she gasped, freeing her feet
from the stirrups and slipping limply until her feet touched the ground.
For a moment she stood leaning against the bronco for support, one
hand clinging to the pommel of the saddle.
The guide sought to draw her away, fearful that the pony might spring
to one side and let loose a volley of kicks.
Grace shook her head, her left hand grasped the mane of the pony and
she pulled herself to his head. Fumbling in her pocket, she drew forth a
piece of candy and felt rather than, saw the bronco's lips close over the
sweet morsel.
"Wall, ef thet don't beat the Dutch!" exclaimed a cowboy. "A bronc'
eatin' outer a lady's hand. What's the alkali flats a- comin' to!"
"She's a reg'lar lion tamer, thet's the shorest thing I know," declared
another. "Hey! What's up now?"
Grace's fingers had slowly relaxed their grip on the black bronco's
mane, a faint moan escaped her lips, and the Overland girl slipped
down under the pony's neck in a dead faint. The bronco, merely by
lifting a forefoot and bringing it down on his conqueror, could have
crushed the life out of Grace Harlowe.
Instead, the horse arched his neck, curled his head down and nosed her
with the nearest approach to affection that any man there ever had seen
a bronco exhibit.
Hi Lang gathered the unconscious girl up cautiously and carried her to
a safe spot where he laid her down.
"Get water. Everybody stand back and give her air," he directed.

"I will look after her," said Elfreda Brigg hurrying to Grace's side.
The water, fetched in a cowboy's hat, came hand just as Grace regained
consciousness Elfreda bathed her face from the hat and fanned her with
her own sombrero.
"What a per--perfectly silly thing for me do," muttered Grace, raising
herself on elbow.
"If you mean riding that wild animal, I agree with you," frowned