The skin had been scraped from his face in spots where the coarse sand had ground its way through. His hair was filled with the dirt of the plain, and his clothes were torn.
But Tad Butler, nothing daunted, smiled as he pulled himself to his feet.
"You better let that job out. You can't ride that critter!"
"I'll ride him—if he kills me!" answered the boy, his jaws setting stubbornly.
Tad hitched his belt tighter before making any move to approach the pony, which Stallings was now holding by main force. While doing so, the lad watched the animal's buckings observantly.
"What—what happened?" demanded Stallings.
"Foot slipped out of the stirrup."
"Think you can make it?"
"I'll try it, if you have the time to spare."
"It takes time to break a bronch. Don't you worry about that. I don't want you to be breaking your neck, however."