“I’m ready now,” said he. “Bring the critter hyar.”
CHAPTER III.
NOT ON THE PROGRAMME.
You have perhaps read of Ben Hur and the famous chariot race, and remember how General Wallace describes the staring crowds about that amphitheatre. There was no one there a bit more thrilled and interested than the spectators of Smithers’ World Renowned Circus at this supreme moment. They were leaning forward, some of them having even risen to their feet; they were staring with open mouth, scarcely breathing.
The sympathies of every one were with that strange and outlandishly costumed stranger who seemed to have so much money and nerve.
Texas meanwhile was proceeding with a businesslike cautiousness. He examined the saddle girth and the stirrups and tightened both. Then after another survey he concluded that they didn’t suit him, and flung them off altogether.
“He’s going to ride bareback!” gasped the crowd.
That was the stranger’s purpose, evidently. He next examined the bridle, giving Smasher’s head a vigorous shake incidentally and making that wicked animal open one eye in surprise. And after that Texas was ready.
He stood at the horse’s head regarding him just one moment, and then seizing him by the mane, swung himself into the air and landed with a thud upon the pony’s back.
As usual, Smasher never moved. Texas did not wait for him to get ready to start, but dug his heels into his side with a crash that made the bronco leap two feet into the air, and gave a yank at the bit that made his head snap back. And then there was all the fun the most fastidious could want. The center of the ring was a perfect whirl of legs and bodies. The pony flung his hind feet into the air and then danced about on them; Texas simply dug his knees into his side and his heels into his ribs and sat up straight as an arrow, yelling in Texas dialect meanwhile.