“Hey! go it!” laughed Merry, finding an opportunity to snatch off his cap and give it a flourish around his head. “This is the sport! Wake up, old crowbait!”
It happened that the owner of the horse did not fancy having the animal called “crowbait.” He was angry in a moment.
“Buck him, Comet!” he shouted, waving his arms to the little horse and making certain gestures—“buck him hard!”
And Comet bucked as hard as he was able, but still the laughing rider maintained his seat in the saddle.
“Why, this is easy!” declared Frank, who had ridden bucking horses before and studied their tricks. “This creature doesn’t seem to have much ginger in him.”
The boys laughed and applauded, while the cattlemen looked astonished and disgusted.
“Whatever do yer think o’ thet?” said one.
“It’s derned queer an onery kid like him kin ride a broncho,” admitted another.
“That’s ther feller what knocked Injun Charlie out,” said Hank Kildare. “I’ll allow he’s a terror.”
Charlie happened to be standing near enough to hear the words. His face reddened, and he said: