"You're sure you're ready?"
"Yes."
"I think he'll buck middlin' hard."
Is there no pity sitting in the clouds, that looks into the bottom of your woe? We'll see presently. Meantime, console yourself with the recollection of the roan filly that had broken the circus man's collar-bone.
"You've got the off stirrup all right, Tom?"
"Yes."
"I'm goin' to let the beggar rip."
"Go ahead."
"Look out now"——
"Right." But your voice is not what it ought to be, and the soles of your boots are rattling on the flat part of the stirrup-irons.