Trailin! | Page 4

know they came in this style east of the Rockies, Woodbury. I
hope I lose my thousand, but if there was any betting I'd stake ten to
one against you."
In the meantime, some of the range-riders had thrown a coat over the
head of the stallion, and while he stood quivering with helpless rage
they flung a saddle on and drew the cinches taut.
Anthony Woodbury was saying with a smile: "Just for the sake of the

game, I'll take you on for a few hundred, Mr. Werther, if you wish, but
I can't accept odds."
Werther ran a finger under his collar apparently to facilitate breathing.
His eyes, roving wildly, wandered over the white, silent mass of faces,
and his glance picked out and lingered for a moment on the
big-shouldered figure of Drew, erect in his box. At last his glance came
back with an intent frown to Woodbury. Something in the keen eyes of
the laid raised a responsive flicker in his own.
"Well, I'll be damned! Just a game, eh? Lad, no matter on what side of
the Rockies you were born, I know your breed and I won't lay a penny
against your money. There's the hoss saddled and there's the floor you'll
land on. Go to it--and God help you!"
The other shook his shoulders back and stepped toward the horse with a
peculiarly unpleasant smile, like a pugilist coming out of his corner
toward an opponent of unknown prowess.
He said: "Take off the halter."
One of the men snapped viciously over his shoulder: "Climb on while
the climbing's good. Cut out the bluff, partner."
The smile went out on the lips of Woodbury. He repeated: "Take off
the halter."
They stared at him, but quickly began to fumble under the coat,
unfastening the buckle. It required a moment to work off the heavy
halter without giving the blinded animal a glimpse of the light; then
Woodbury caught the bridle reins firmly just beneath the chin of the
horse. With the other hand he took the stirrup strap and raised his foot,
but he seemed to change his mind about this matter.
"Take off the blinder," he ordered.
It was Werther who interposed this time with: "Look here, lad, I know
this hoss. The minute the blinder's off he'll up on his hind legs and bash

you into the floor with his forefeet."
"Let him go," growled one of the cowboys. "He's goin' to hell making a
gallery play."
But taking the matter into his own hands Woodbury snatched the coat
from the head of the stallion, which snorted and reared up, mouth agape
ears flattened back. There was a shout from the man, not a cry of
dismay, but a ringing battle yell like some ancient berserker seeing the
first flash of swords in the mêlée. He leaped forward, jerking down on
the bridle reins with all the force of his weight and his spring. The
horse, caught in mid-air, as it were, came floundering down on all fours
again. Before he could make another move, Woodbury caught the high
horn of the saddle and vaulted up to his seat. It was gallantly done and
in response came a great rustling from the multitude; there was not a
spoken word, but every man was on his feet.
Perhaps what followed took their breaths and kept them speechless.
The first touch of his rider's weight sent the stallion mad, not blind with
fear as most horses go, but raging with a devilish cunning like that of
an insane man, a thing that made the blood run cold to watch. He stood
a moment shuddering, as if the strange truth were slowly dawning on
his brute mind; then he bolted straight for the barriers. Woodbury
braced himself and lunged back on the reins, but he might as well have
tugged at the mooring cable of a great ship; the bit was in the monster's
teeth.
Then a whisper reached the rider, a universal hushing of drawn breath,
for the thousands were tasting the first thrill and terror of the combat.
They saw a picture of horse and man crushed against the barrier. But
there was no such stupid rage in the mind of the stallion.
At the last moment he swerved and raced close beside the fence; some
projecting edge caught the trousers of Woodbury and ripped away the
stout cloth from hip to heel. He swung far to the other side and
wrenched back the reins. With stiff-braced legs the stallion slid to a halt
that flung his unbalanced rider forward along his neck. Before he could
straighten himself in the saddle, the horse roared and came down on

rigid forelegs, yet by a miracle Woodbury clung, sprawled down the
side of the monster, to