“He proved rather handy with his fists,” he admitted; “but he didn’t knock me out. I fell backward over the veranda rail, and was stunned. I reckoned it would be said he did it.”
Now up to this time no one had felt like disputing anything Charlie said, or even hinting that they doubted him. The time had come, however, when Hank Kildare felt like showing independence.
“Mebbe yer went backward over ther rail, Charlie,” he said; “but I don’t reckon ye’ll claim ye wasn’t pushed?”
Charlie scowled, but forced a sneering smile.
“The kid struck at me, and I stepped backward,” he declared. “In doing so I struck against the rail and fell over upon my head. That is all.”
“Wa-al,” dryly drawled Kildare, “it’s a nice black eye ye’ll have to remember that yar fall.”
In the meantime, while this conversation was taking place, Comet had been doing his best to unseat Merriwell, but had not succeeded. At last he stopped and stood still, seeming played out and completely disgusted by failure.
Frank laughed.
“It’s easier than I thought,” he said.
“That broncho was trained to buck,” said Indian Charlie, speaking loudly enough for Frank to hear. “He isn’t much like a natural bucker. The tenderfoot couldn’t stay on the back of a natural bucker a second.”