"Now, Bud," called Ted, "ride in on him and rope him. You, Kit, get him by the leg and throw him, and I'll slip a bridle on him."
It was not much of a trick to rope and hold him so that he couldn't kick. But when Ted tried to slip the bit between his teeth, he fought like the demon that he was, biting and kicking, so that he had to be thrown to his side and his head held down before the bridle could be put on him.
Then he was allowed to rise. There was no doubt but that the horse was insane with rage and fear, and several cowmen came forward and tried to persuade Ted from attempting to ride him, but Ted was as obstinate as the horse, and said that he would conquer the black, or die in the attempt.
He finally found the fellow who had been holding his saddle, although he had left his stand and was found back behind the crowd talking to a gang of young fellows, among whom Ted recognized several of Creviss' companions. This delayed and angered him, and he called the saddle bearer down for deserting his post, and was answered with sneers and laughter.
After many trials, and the exertion of a great deal of patience, Ted got the saddle on Lucifer and hastily cinched, and as he sprang to the brute's back the ropes were loosed. With a bound and a snort of terror the black dashed forward, and it was with the greatest difficulty that Ted swung it so it went through the gates and into the arena without dashing him against the posts.
Once inside the arena, the brute began to exhibit terrible ferocity.
Stella and Bud had followed in his wake, and when the girl saw how the brute was behaving, she whispered to Bud:
"That demon will kill him yet."
"If he don't kill it," answered Bud.
"Why did you let him ride it? I got there a moment too late, and he was already in the saddle, or I should have stopped it."