CHAPTER XXXI—FRANK MERRIWELL’S RIDE
Frank Merriwell was a natural horseman, and he had often taken pleasure in breaking some obstinate and vicious animal. At the same time he knew well enough that a bucking broncho is about as much like an ordinary unbroken horse as dynamite is like baking powder.
But he had encountered vicious horses in the West. He remembered how, on the ranch of Miles Morgan, in Kansas, he had successfully ridden a man-killing stallion, to the unutterable astonishment of everybody about the place.
From choice Frank would not have attempted to ride a bucker, but he was aroused by the sneering words of Indian Charlie and the manner in which the coward had sought to make him the butt of ridicule.
“I’ll ride the beast if I live!” Frank mentally vowed.
It was useless to try to dissuade him, as the cowboys soon found out.
When Inza learned what he meant to do, she came out and cautioned him, but she had the utmost confidence in his ability.
Sadie Rodney, however, did not think Frank could ride the broncho.
“Don’t try it, Mr. Merriwell!” she entreated. “You will be killed!”
“I hardly think so,” smiled Frank, quietly.
Four cowboys came leading Firebrand from the corral. The animal was a vicious-looking creature, with an ugly cast in his eyes, and even as it was brought forth, it made a desperate attempt to beat down one of the men with its forward hoofs, rearing into the air and striking with amazing quickness.
The cowboy dodged and escaped, but the broncho suddenly stopped, and no urging could induce it to stir another step.
Indian Charlie’s metallic laugh rang out.
“The tenderfoot will do a fine job with that creature!” he cried. “I never collared a hundred easier in all my life. Why, he won’t be able to stay on Firebrand’s back a second, if he ever gets there.”
It was not possible to strap a saddle to the back of such a creature without a fight, and it took six cowboys at least twenty minutes to succeed in doing this.
Frank stood and watched this work, seeming not at all disturbed by the struggle that was going on.
“The tenderfoot has confidence in himself,” said one of the cowboys.
At last everything was ready for Frank to make the attempt to ride Firebrand. He flung aside his jacket, pulled his cap hard down on his head, and advanced toward the animal.
“You’ll have to make a jump fer ther saddle ef you ever expect to——Wa-al, dern me!”
Pecos Pete interrupted himself with the exclamation, for Frank was mounted on the broncho before he could finish speaking.
“Let go!”
Merriwell’s voice rang out clear and strong, and the cowboys broke away in all directions, one of them barely escaping being struck by the whistling heels of the animal.
Then, as if every muscle in him was of spring steel and he was run by a furnace, the broncho let himself loose. It was marvelous how he could double himself up, shoot into the air, bounce, bound, rear and kick with such rapidity. It really was impossible to follow all his movements with the eye. He squealed with fury. For thirty feet he shot ahead, and then he stopped as if turned to stone.
It did not seem possible that any living man could remain on the broncho’s back, and Frank was snapped about as if some of the movements would break him in two or jerk his head off; but he retained his seat in the saddle as if he had been fastened there and nothing could free him from it.
Firebrand stood on his forward feet and then stood on his hind feet. He jumped into the air and humped his back five or six times in rapid succession. He jumped sideways, forward, backward, in all directions, but Frank refused to be dislodged.
A murmur of admiration came from the cowboys.
“Dern my eyes!” grunted Pecos Pete, his mouth wide open.
“He’ll be thrown in a minute,” declared Indian Charlie. “He can’t stay much longer.”
“He will be killed!” cried Sadie Rodney, clinging to Inza’s arm.
“He will not be harmed,” said Inza, but her face was very pale and her hands were clasped.
Firebrand reared into the air, and, with a scream of fury, threw himself on his back.
In some way Frank succeeded in dropping upon his feet, and he was in the saddle again when the broncho arose.
That brought a shout of applause from the cowboys.
“He done it as well as I could!” cried Pecos Pete.
“That’s whatever!” fluttered Hank Kildare. “Derned ef I don’t believe he’s goin’ ter ride ther critter! Kin it be he is a tenderfoot?”
“Ef so, he’s seen bronchos before.”
“You bet!”
Indian Charlie was astonished as well as disgusted.
“Why that trick should have finished him!” he muttered. “He should have been killed by the fall!”
Barney Mulloy was near enough to catch the words.
“G’wan wid yez!” he cried. “Loightning can’t kill thot b’y!”
The broncho was not satisfied by any means. If possible, it continued its wild gyrations with renewed fury. It darted hither and thither, and, finally, made straight for the nearest corral in a blind manner.
“Look out! look out!” shouted several cowboys.
It seemed the furious animal meant to run straight into the corral fence, but it wheeled sideways and tried to rub Frank off. In this attempt it was not successful, and, with a scream that was wilder than any yet uttered, it again threw itself backward.
Then it was that Frank demonstrated that his escape on the previous occasion had been no accident, for he alighted on his feet with quite as much skill as before, and was in the saddle again when Firebrand got up.
Bill Rodney waved his hat with one hand and the stake money with the other, uttering a genuine cowboy yell of delight.
“Why, he’s a wonder—a howlin’ wonder!” the admiring rancher shouted. “Look out, Pecos Pete, for hyer’s a chap what’s mighty nigh your equal.”
“That’s right,” nodded the broncho buster, generously; “but how it happens is a sight more than I know!”
Miss Abigail, who had come from the house with the two girls, nodded her head, her hard face softening.
“He is a wonderful young man,” she said. “I do hope he will not be injured, and I hope you’ll be lucky enough to marry him, Inza. If you don’t—well, I’ll marry him myself, and he’s the first male critter I ever saw that I’d have!”
“I didn’t think he could do it,” confessed the rancher’s daughter, her eyes glowing with admiration as she watched Frank struggling with the broncho. “There are old cowboys who would not dare attempt to ride that beast.”
“Frank never fails in anything he attempts,” declared Inza, proudly.
Indian Charlie ground his teeth.
“Who’d dreamed the tenderfoot knew anything about riding such a creature?” he hissed, under his breath. “It is a miracle!”
Still he hoped some accident would happen to Frank.
But no accident occurred, and after five minutes of struggling Merry sprang from the back of the broncho, the creature being taken in charge by several cowboys at once.
“I claim the stake money, Mr. Rodney,” said Hodge.
“You can’t have it!” came in a flash from the lips of the foreman of the Lone Star.
“Can’t?” asked Bart, in astonishment, as Charlie pushed forward. “How is that? I do not understand, sir.”
“You have not won it.”
“Haven’t? I think you are mistaken. Didn’t you see——”
“I saw the fellow get on Firebrand’s back and stay there a short time, but that was all.”
“That was enough.”
“He did not break the broncho.”
“I didn’t bet that he would. I bet he would ride any horse on the ranch, and he has done it. The money is mine.”
“Pecos Pete would have broken the animal. Merriwell must do that before the money is yours.”
“Not much,” smiled Frank, who came up in time to overhear the man’s words. “I heard the terms of the wager, and Hodge wins. He bet I could ride the horse, and I will leave it to anybody present if I did not do so. I did not agree to break the creature, and I did not try. That’s all.”
“You didn’t ride long enough.”
“No time was stipulated. I will leave it to the men here if I did not ride long enough to prove that I could ride the animal.”
“Yes! yes! yes!” was the shout that went up.
“And I shall pay the money to Mr. Hodge,” said Bill Rodney. “He won it all right, or Mr. Merriwell won it fer him.”
He gave the money to Bart, and the cowboys cheered.
With an angry exclamation, Indian Charlie turned and walked away.