"Which doesn't count for very much in this sort of a contest," laughed the boy.
"Very well, you know best. But keep your eyes on him."
"Are you gentlemen ready to begin?" called the rancher.
"I must go now," said Tad hurriedly.
"Good-bye and good luck," breathed Mr. Phipps, as the lad rode away at the same time straightening out his rope which he allowed to drag behind his pony while he recoiled it, working it in his hands to limber the rawhide.
"It's a good rope," decided Tad.
The foreman halted them for final instructions.
"Now, gentlemen, understand that the rope must go over the head and be drawn taut, after which you are to let go of it. You are to take your places some distance apart—I'll place you—and start at the crack of the pistol, not before. Understand?"
Tad and the cowman opposed to him nodded, the latter with a sarcastic grin on his face.
The miner had lost the rifle which he coveted, and the cowboy did not propose to have the same luck in the case of the saddle, which was very valuable.