When the contestants had finally lined up, the Pony Rider Boys were surprised to observe that Stacy Brown had ridden down to the scratch with the others. He was sitting on his pony as solemn as an owl, industriously munching a sandwich that he had made for himself.
"You'll break your neck. You'd better keep out of this," advised Ned
Rector.
"Better look out for your own neck," retorted Stacy. "Guess I know how to ride as well as the rest of you."
"All right, it's not my lookout. Remember I gave you good advice," was Ned's parting admonition.
Stacy's pony was a glossy black, the only one of that color among the contestants, and between pony and boy the cowmen were undecided as to which was the most conspicuous.
"At the second shot of the pistol you will start," announced the foreman. "All ready for the first?"
"Yes!" roared the impatient riders.
The foreman pulled the trigger and the ponies began to dance about.
Bang!
"Whoop-e-e-e!" yelled the riders, digging in the rowels of their spurs.