The guide sought to draw her away, fearful that the pony might spring to one side and let loose a volley of kicks.
Grace shook her head, her left hand grasped the mane of the pony and she pulled herself to his head. Fumbling in her pocket, she drew forth a piece of candy and felt rather than, saw the bronco's lips close over the sweet morsel.
"Wall, ef thet don't beat the Dutch!" exclaimed a cowboy. "A bronc' eatin' outer a lady's hand. What's the alkali flats a- comin' to!"
"She's a reg'lar lion tamer, thet's the shorest thing I know," declared another. "Hey! What's up now?"
Grace's fingers had slowly relaxed their grip on the black bronco's mane, a faint moan escaped her lips, and the Overland girl slipped down under the pony's neck in a dead faint. The bronco, merely by lifting a forefoot and bringing it down on his conqueror, could have crushed the life out of Grace Harlowe.
Instead, the horse arched his neck, curled his head down and nosed her with the nearest approach to affection that any man there ever had seen a bronco exhibit.
Hi Lang gathered the unconscious girl up cautiously and carried her to a safe spot where he laid her down.
"Get water. Everybody stand back and give her air," he directed.
"I will look after her," said Elfreda Brigg hurrying to Grace's side.
The water, fetched in a cowboy's hat, came hand just as Grace regained consciousness Elfreda bathed her face from the hat and fanned her with her own sombrero.