At a word from his rider the white horse slackened his speed, and came to a regular gallop, such as the circus horses alone know how to bring out.
Then if the reader could have seen the eyes of the Comanches as they watched the rider, they would not have wondered that they took him to be a wizard.
Barry stood with his back to the horse’s head, and suddenly sprung up into the air, turning over and making a complete somersault. He touched the back of the horse, and again he went up. The Indians saw at once that their man could never do this, and yet the Comanche was pluck.
As Barry Le Clare rode out of the ring, he rode in and made the attempt. He succeeded very well in the first part, although he had to swing his arms pretty wildly to balance himself, but when he came to the jumping, he made a complete failure.
Instead of coming down upon the back of his horse, which acted well for the first time in the ring, he came plump upon the ground, and rolled over and over.
A shout of laughter arose from the dusky throng, and the discomfited Comanche arose to his feet in a savage manner.
Striding up to Barry he asked him if he wanted to race.
The latter replied that he didn’t care if he did.
“Me make bet wid pale-face. Gray horse beat, me win, white ’un beat, pale-face win,” said the Comanche.
“Show your money, old man. How much on it?” exclaimed Barry.