There was a confused babel of sound in Jim’s ears when he awoke Wednesday morning; hammering and clanging and the squeak of ropes, shouting and cursing, and now and then the roar or yell of some protesting animal.
He was lying on a narrow bunk in a tent, and opposite him a husky-looking individual was climbing into a pair of checked trousers and yawning vociferously.
Jim’s head ached confoundedly, and he was stiff and sore, but his mind cleared rapidly from the mists of slumber. What sort of a place was this, and how had he got there? Then all at once he remembered, and there came a horrifying thought. What had become of Lou?
“Where’s Lou? M–my sister?” he demanded, sitting bolt upright.
70“Hello, there! Come out of it all right, did you?” The occupant of the tent hitched a suspender over one shoulder and grinned cheerfully. “The kid’s took care of! She’s with Ma Billings. That was a nasty header you took last night. O. K. now? We gotter pull out in an hour.”
“Oh, I’m all right; but say, did I pull that bonehead stuff out there before all of them?” Jim reddened beneath his tan at the thought. “Fall off the horse like that, I mean?”
“In the ring? No, you made a grand exit, and then slumped; nobody saw it but the little girl, and she beat it right down to the ring and out after you. Fit like a wildcat, too, when we tried to keep her away from you till we could find out what had struck you.” The other grinned once more.
“Some sister, ol’-timer! When we found that big muscle bruise on your side, and she told us that you had been tossed by a bull a couple of days ago, we didn’t wonder you keeled over.”
Jim sat up dizzily.
“It was mighty good of you people to take 71us in for the night,” he said. “Who is Ma Billings?”