The rodeo was drawing to a close and already many persons were leaving the stands. Connie’s eye wandered over the crowd. She wondered what had become of Pop Bradshaw and Enid. She had not seen the old rancher since the bulldogging event, nor had the girl appeared to congratulate her upon winning out in the bronco riding contest.
“In her heart I don’t believe Enid really likes me,” Connie told herself. “And from now on it will be harder than ever for us to be friends.”
She turned her attention once more to the arena. Only one more event remained on the day’s program, an Indian race.
At the opposite side of the track she could see the ponies being lined up. They were small, sleek, beautiful animals, so high spirited that their riders had trouble holding them in position. The Indians themselves, adorned with bright sashes, paint and feathers, added a colorful note to the scene.
The start of the race was delayed and the crowd grew more impatient. An increasing number deserted the stands, many leaving the bleachers to crowd against the fence. A portion of it gave way causing a momentary flurry of excitement.
“Back from the track, folks!” warned one of the guards, but when he moved off a minute later, the crowd swarmed through the opening again.
No one noticed that a child, separated from its parents, stood alone just inside the break of the fence.
Then at last the starter’s pistol cracked and the racers were off! Down the track in a cloud of dust came the ponies, their bareback riders bent low as they urged their mounts to greater speed.
At that moment, the child, unaware of any danger, started to toddle across the track. Midway to the other side the little girl saw the oncoming horses and heard the thundering hoofs. Frozen by terror she stopped and stood perfectly still.
“That child will be killed!” screamed a woman.